


That Smile and That Midnight Laugh

by yeah_alright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (near), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) Fusion, American AU, But it's not really dealt with either, Chicago specifically, College AU, Coming Out, F/F, Girl Direction, High School AU, Including internal, Liam and Zayn are both characters but all off screen, Period typical homophobia isn't magicked away, Sort Of, Starts off with Gryles but Larry endgame, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Though there's lots of period-typical presumed heterosexuality, and other people finding out, and some anxiety around realizing you're not straight, because ferris bueller, girl!Niall, girl!larry, lots of fluff with some bits of angst, more just self realization, narry friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeah_alright/pseuds/yeah_alright
Summary: “I love the arrival of a new season — each one bringing with it its own emotion: spring is full of hope; summer is freedom; autumn is a colourful release, and winter brings an enchanting peace.”– Giovanna Fletcher***Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.It feels different.A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.Art by the lovely and talented Fran, who you can find ontumblrandinstagram.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52
Collections: One Direction Big Bang Round 3





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> This is my little fic that (barely) could. I wrote almost the entire first chapter well over a year ago, back before I'd written any other fics. Then I promptly ignored it and mostly have ever since. But I always wanted to go back, and Big Bang was the push I needed, so thank you to the mods, all the artists and writers who participate, and to Maggie for encouraging me to do this fest as a way to finally get this girl done.
> 
> Thank you to Sage for including a random Ferris Bueller reference in your 13 Going on 30 fic, which led me to joke that if anything was going to get me to write a fic it would be Sloane and Jeanie, for fanning that spark with your enthusiasm, and for being here since moment one. Thank you to Maggie for so patiently and expertly helping me craft the first part of this into something I was proud of and wanted to continue. And thank you to Maggie and Sage and Kim and Sarah for reading and commenting and encouraging and flailing and being generally just the best. 
> 
> Thank you to Fran for your dreamy, gorgeous art. I still can't believe an idea of mine contributed in any small way to what you created. I love each piece so much. And thank you especially for being the most encouraging and understanding collaborator I could have asked for. 
> 
> The title is from the song "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3 <3

_"Spring drew on . . . and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps."_

_– Charlotte Bronte_

*******

“He’s going to _marry_ me…” Harry muses aloud to herself and her front yard, unable to keep a hint of a smile from quirking up the left side of her mouth as she watches Nick run off to beat his parents home. It had been such a good, great day. Full of surprises, even a few close calls. Unexpected seriousness sprinkled throughout an utterly delightful itinerary. Simultaneously unlike and exactly like every other day with Nick Grimshaw. 

Harry stays outside a few moments more, eyes shut, head tilted back to let the day’s remaining sunlight bathe her face, lips stretched into a contemplative smile. She’s not quite ready to let go of the day, so she allows herself a few minutes longer to enjoy this solitary reflection. Inside, no doubt, awaits a perfectly pleasant but completely typical evening with her mom and stepdad. And tomorrow, an ordinary school day. 

Well, likely aside from a few awkward conversations with Principal Cowell and the school nurse checking in on how she and her family are doing in the wake of her grandmother’s passing. She’ll probably have to fake a little emotion to get through those believably. No small feat considering her grandmothers had actually both passed years before she’d had a chance to know them. It’s the only reason she’d agreed to Nick’s cover story for her today. Harry’s not overly superstitious, but she’s certainly not the kind of person to risk a jinx on a family member just to take a day off from school. So, ok. Maybe tonight will be different than usual in one way: practicing a slight lip quiver and solemn, grateful nod for any well-meaning teachers or members of the school administration. 

She opens her eyes and shakes her head with a little laugh at the thought. _The things I do because of Nick._ At least it’s never boring. Never that. 

Harry squints one eye half closed at the sun hovering midway to the horizon, beginning to turn the sky a swirl of pastel colors, and exhales a final breath of farewell to her day off before turning to walk inside. 

“Mom? Robin? I’m home!” she offers as she opens the door to her house and steps inside. She’s a little later than normal, but not enough to raise suspicion. 

“Hi sweetie. How was school?” her mom calls from the kitchen. Harry walks from the entry way down the hall to the kitchen to join her mom. 

“Oh fine. You know. Same as usual. Cheerleading went a little long.” Harry places a distracted kiss on her mom’s cheek before setting her bag down on the floor next to the counter, absentmindedly shuffling through the mail stacked next to the phone, not actually paying attention to what might be in any of the envelopes. Probably just parent stuff anyway. She grabs a cherry tomato from the salad her mom is about to put on the table. 

“Oy!” Her mom smacks Harry’s hand away with a laugh. “Go wash your hands and get your sister. Dinner’s ready.” 

“Gemma’s here?” Harry’s older sister is in her third year at the Art Institute of Chicago, and she stops back home occasionally to force Anne and Harry to try on her latest designs. 

“She’s upstairs. Grab Robin from his study, too, would you?” 

“Mmmm,” Harry offers as she leaves the kitchen to gather up her family. At least with Gemma here she won’t have to search for believable things to say about her school day that she definitely attended all of with absolutely no shenanigans whatsoever. She can just pepper her sister with questions about classes and her latest projects and whatever she’s brought over to show them tonight. Plus after dinner she can tell Gemma about her _actual_ day. It would be such a shame not to be able to gush a little to someone. 

~

Harry and Gemma finish cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Harry having whispered her days’ events as they cleared dishes and put away leftovers. Luckily, Robin needs the TV loud, so there was no real danger of he and Anne overhearing from the living room couch. Gemma is playfully teasing Harry about what hideous bridesmaid dress she's going to be forced to wear, eliciting an exaggerated eye roll from Harry, when the phone in Harry’s room rings. 

Her head instinctively snaps in the direction of the stairs, but she turns back to Gemma quickly to assure her she’s not running off. “I’ll call him back later.”

“Nah, go ahead. I’ve gotta be heading back to school anyway. I’ll have some stuff for you to try on next week. Tonight I just needed dinner and laundry machines.” 

“Ok,” Harry responds gratefully, giving her a quick hug. “See ya, Gem.” 

“Yeah yeah. Off you go. Hi to Nick.” She lowers her voice and adds “tell him to be brave” with a wink. Harry nods back seriously before breaking into a laugh and heading for the stairs. 

“Love you!” she calls back to Gemma as she skips up the steps. 

“Love you too, baby sis. See you soon.”

Harry flies through the door to her room and grabs her pink translucent phone from its cradle just before the machine picks up. “Hello!” she answers brightly, plopping onto her bed and gazing toward the full length mirror on the back of her closet door. She almost always watches herself in the mirror while she’s talking on the phone. Partially because she still hasn’t tired of the jumbled colorful mess of visible wires inside her phone, and partially because she amuses herself greatly making faces at her reflection. She has no idea why she does this, but she always has. And it’s definitely why she’s so good at pulling faces. Hours and hours of practice. Time well spent. 

“So, your parents buy it?” Nick greets her, as Harry makes an exaggerated frown at the mirror, furrowing her brows, then switches to a shocked baby deer expression. 

“Totally. Gemma was here for dinner anyway – apparently someone on her hall organized a bake sale to help out with your medical bills,” Harry laughs and Nick joins her, adding, “Finally! Some sympathy!” 

Harry continues as her laughter fades out, “So yeah, I didn’t have to answer the usual ‘How was school’ type questions. Didn’t even get a chance to use my practiced boring replies.” She sighs dramatically and puts on an exaggerated pout for the mirror’s benefit. 

“Well,” Nick starts dramatically, “aren’t you the lucky one?” 

“What happened?” Harry bites, always quick to take the bait from Nick, no matter how obviously he’s fishing. Harry enjoys being generous that way. “Did you finally get busted?” 

“No,” Nick admits. “Had a few close ones, though.” He tells Harry how his dad almost spotted him for the third time that day as he was running down the street through the neighborhood after dropping Harry off. 

“That's crazy!” Harry exclaims, actually matching the expression she’d been putting on for the mirror. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable, actually. That you were within a few feet of him so many times today, or that he _still_ managed not to see you!”

“Oh babe, I haven’t even gotten to the unbelievable bit yet.” 

“What? Tell me!” Harry lies down to get more comfortable, sensing a not-short story coming. 

“So. I finally get to my back door, completely out of breath and desperate to get inside before my parents, who I swear I hear pulling into the driveway at that exact moment. But when I lift the welcome mat to grab the spare key...it’s not there.”

“Oh crap,” Harry mutters, drawn in already. She may be generous with her attention, but Nick gives good story. 

“My thought exactly. And just as I'm wondering what the hell I'm going to do, this busted men’s dress shoe clomps down right next to my hand.” 

“So your dad _did_ catch you!” 

“Much worse! It was _Cowell!”_

“No fucking way! _Principal_ Cowell?” Harry gasps. 

“Swear to God.” Harry can picture Nick holding his right hand up like he's actually swearing an oath. He’s so cute. 

“So I stand up straight and face him, thinking it’s all over. I’m screwed. He’s going to hold me back and spend next year torturing me.” 

“Oh my God. What the hell was he even _doing_ there?” Harry can’t believe this. _Her_ evening had been so normal. But of course Nick’s was movie-climax-worthy. 

“Haven’t got a clue – trying to catch me skipping, I suppose. But I’m still not at the unbelievable bit, H.” 

Harry’s not even making faces at herself anymore. She’s just staring herself straight in the eyes. 

“So he’s gloating and droning on and on, that smug self-satisfied look on his face, you know, when the back door opens and _Louis_ is standing there.”

“Uh oh!” Harry laughs. “She must have been so psyched to find you in the middle of being busted. _”_

“That’s what _I_ figured. But before I could even shoot her a pleading look, she goes ‘Thank God you’re alright! We’ve been worried sick about you.’”

“No way!”

“She _winked_ at me, Harry!” 

“Oh my God, babe!” Harry can’t believe this. This is unbelievable. 

“I know! And she really sold it too. She even thanked Cowell for bringing me home.” Nick laughs in disbelief. “Such a nice touch. It was amazing, really.”

“I can’t believe this! What did you say?!”

“Nothing! I honestly didn't know how to respond. I was just focused on keeping my jaw from hitting the floor,” Nick laughs. 

Harry giggles along with Nick. “Yeah, wow. So what did _Cowell_ do? He must have been so confused!”

“He was so stunned, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there bewildered. I _almost_ felt sorry for him.” 

Harry hears the change in tone of Nick’s laugh – from general amusement to schadenfreude. She can’t blame him. It must have been so satisfying watching Cowell’s face go from glee to defeat. 

“So what _happened_?!” Harry pleads. 

“Well I was just looking back and forth between Cowell and Louis, still not quite sure what the hell was actually going on. And Louis orders me inside and up to bed.”

“Ha!” Harry yelps.

“I know! I was shocked. But somehow I managed to keep it together. Shot her a quick grateful look then figured I should do my part to play along, so I made a weird sick noise and made a pitiful face at Cowell–”

“Nice,” Harry affirms.

“–and then ducked inside and hauled ass up to my room just barely in time for my parents to show up and check in on me.” 

“Incredible.” Harry shakes her head. 

_This_ _is quite a change._ Harry raises her eyebrows at herself in the mirror. _Louis helping Nick get away with his bullshit?_

“I’m dying to know what Cowell said after I left.” Nick sighs impatiently. “Louis’s still downstairs having dinner with the parental units. They brought me soup in my room. Insisted I stay up here – being so sick and all,” he mock pouts. 

“Uh huh, poor baby,” Harry playfully lobs back. “So what the hell got into Louis, you think? I can’t believe she didn’t just keep the back door locked and watch him rip you to shreds through the blinds.” 

“Honestly, me either,” Nick answers. “Maybe her time in jail softened her…”

“Excuse me?!” Harry squeaks. “Jail?” 

“I haven’t gotten that full story either. I’m _suffering_ up here! All I’ve been able to gather from my mom’s barely hushed yelling from the kitchen is that Louis skipped school today too and got picked up by the police for something. My mom had to go pick her up from the station. She’s furious.”

“That is _so_ crazy!” Harry’s mouth drops open without her even telling it to. Louis can be a little abrasive if she’s in the wrong mood, but she must have gone truly over the edge to get _arrested._ “How’d she even end up dealing with a cop? I can definitely imagine her resisting arrest, but–” 

Nick’s laugh interrupts Harry’s musing and it’s infectious. Harry’s giggly disbelief carries through the rest of her sentence. 

“–but how on Earth did it even get to that? Nick, you have to find out!” 

“Trust me, babe. There's nothing else on my mind. It’s my only goal for tonight.” 

“And you have to remember every single detail so you can fill me in tomorrow morning.” 

“Of course I will, H. Oooh! I hear someone stomping up the steps. I think they finally released her! Better go. See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too. Details! All of them!” 

“I’m all over it.” 

They hang up, and Harry exhales a laugh. _What. The Hell._ She should have known this day wasn’t done surprising her. 

After one last look at her mirror buddy – they share a wide-eyed look of disbelief, puffing out their cheeks and making a smacking “pptp” noise with their lips – Harry flips onto her back and gazes up at the soft peachy gauze canopy over her bed, grateful for the peaceful sanctuary of her bedroom. 

She practices a few lip quivers at the canopy, testing out the feel for tomorrow and deciding less is probably more. She'll do a final run through in front of the mirror later.

Her eyes eventually shift down, roving around the two walls she can partially see from this angle, a mixture of posters – Fleetwood Mac and Janet Jackson a particularly stand-out pair of neighbors that some might find at odds but Harry thinks go perfectly well together thank you – and a sprawling collage of various beautiful people trapped beneath the gloss of torn-out magazine pages, arranged sometimes meticulously and sometimes haphazardly, but always lovingly. 

Harry’s admiring her handiwork the way she often does in silent moments when her phone rings, startling her out of her meditation. _Nick must have gotten the story from Louis!_ Harry grabs the phone before the first ring ends and practically shouts into the receiver, “So what happened?!” 

“You tell me!” a voice belonging to definitely-not-Nick answers back. 

“Niall!” Harry breaks into a big smile.

“So you haven’t completely forgotten about your best friend, then?” Niall accuses good-naturedly. 

Harry laughs, “‘Course not! I just thought you were Nick. It’s been a crazy day.” 

Niall mmm hmms back, “Why do you think I’m calling? You think I didn’t notice you starting to put your jacket on this morning before the nurse was even done whispering to Teach to call you out of class? I want details!”

Harry laughs. She _had_ been a little eager to get out of class that morning. 

“It was another Nick Grimshaw’s Day Off, I’m guessing. At lunch I overheard Simone say to her friend that her boyfriend’s sister’s cousin heard from this guy who heard from this girl that Nick streaked the Cubs’ game or something! Tell me every single thing!”

“That’s...not _exactly_ what happened,” Harry laughs at the predictability of the rumor mill. “But it was a pretty amazing day.” 

She gives Niall the highlights – the elaborate phone calls and fake voices and answering machine messages to ensure Principal Cowell couldn’t prove the grandmother story or Nick’s illness were bullshit. The museum and the fancy lunch with the stuck up maître d′ and the baseball game. Nick performing in the goddamn parade. (“Of course he did!”) Liam’s dad’s killer ferrari, which they ended up actually killing (“Poor Liam...”). 

Harry skips Liam’s panic attack and subsequent hot tubbing in a stranger’s yard. Liam’s got enough of a weirdo reputation and Harry doesn’t want to feed into it. Even Liam’s somewhat inexplicable – to everyone else – status as Nick Grimshaw’s best friend hasn’t saved him from basically being an outcast as far as most people are concerned. He doesn’t need this story going beyond the three of them. Niall would never be cruel to anyone, but it still doesn’t feel right to Harry to tell even her. 

Apparently she doesn’t have the same worry about Louis’ brush with the law because she _does_ tell Niall that bit. _Louis is tough. She can take whatever people might say about her._ Or maybe Harry just physically cannot stop herself from telling Niall about Louis getting picked up by the police because Harry physically cannot stop her brain from thinking about it. 

She definitely can’t wait ‘til tomorrow for details. 

“Actually, Niall, I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I go? I think I’m just going to go over to Nick’s to find out what happened. It’s killing me not knowing.” 

Niall lets out a faux-outraged squawk before relenting immediately. She’s probably curious as hell too. “Ok well you better call me the second you’re back home with the full story. I had to suffer through Algebra today, Harry. Algebra! It’s the least you can do for me.” 

Harry laughs good naturedly and assures Niall she’ll tell her everything as soon as she knows. 

“Even if it’s late when you get home,” Niall pushes. “I’m _sooo bored._ ” 

“Even if it’s late, Ni. Talk to you later.”

Harry hangs up and decides to go straight to Nick’s without calling to let him know. She doesn’t want to risk his parents answering and trying to keep her from coming over. If she just shows up with that tea Nick says helps him sleep, they’ll definitely let her in at least for a little while. She grabs a stack of random papers from her rolltop desk. _Might as well tell them I got his homework assignments, too. Really sell it._ That one’ll help convince her own parents, too. 

When Harry gets downstairs, her mom and Robin are still on the couch watching TV. 

_Ooh, Moonlighting!_

“Mom, Robin, I’m going to run over to Nick’s house. He sounded pretty awful on the phone,” she lies, hoping her concerned tone is convincing. “I just want to bring him his school work and check on him, ok?” 

“That’s nice, sweetie,” her mom replies, eyes glued to the screen. 

Harry can’t really blame her. Bruce Willis looks particularly good this episode. _Actually, so does Cybill Shepherd._

“Just be careful not to catch what he has.” 

“What?” Harry’s startled out of her thought. “Oh, right. I will.” 

“And don’t be too late.” 

“I won’t. But might be a little while, so don’t wait up. I promise I’ll be back by curfew. Love you, bye!” Harry calls out, grabbing the car keys and her jacket and throwing the papers in her purse. 

She barely hears Robin’s, “Bye, hon! Love you!” through the doorway as she swings the door shut and hurries out to the car.

~~~

“Harry! Hi, hon. What a surprise,” Eileen greets Harry and waves her in. “Nick didn’t say you were coming over.” 

Harry offers a polite, “I hope I’m not interrupting,” as she steps into the house. “Nick doesn’t actually know. I wanted to bring him some tea and also the school work he missed today.” She opens her purse a few inches so Eileen can see the papers. “And you know Nick. I figured if I told him I was bringing homework, he wouldn’t let me come by.” Harry flashes Eileen her best mom smile. 

Parents _love_ her. 

And Eileen is no exception. She laughs and shakes her head knowingly. “No, probably not. Go on up, sweetie. He’s in his room. Just be careful not to get too close. You don’t want to catch what he has, poor little lamb. He was still awfully sweaty when we got home a few hours ago.” 

Harry puts on her serious, thoughtful face and nods in agreement. Eileen gives her shoulder a little squeeze and walks off in the direction of the kitchen. 

Harry leans toward the kitchen and calls out, “Hi, Mr. Tomlinson!” Her mother had always told her never to enter a friend’s house without greeting their parents, and Harry never did. She doesn’t wait for his response though. Harry’s been to the Tomlinshaw house enough times to know not to expect much more than a polite sentence or two from Nick’s stepdad. And she doubts he’s even interested in that tonight, with his daughter fresh out of the clink. So Harry turns immediately and heads for the stairs. 

Nick’s door is open, and Harry can hear both he and Louis inside as she gets close. “Ding dong,” she sings as she gets to the doorway. “Hey babe. Hi Louis!” 

Harry’s a little surprised to find Louis there. She knew Nick was planning to get details out of her, and it’s not like she thought they’d be in Louis’ room (Harry doesn’t even remember ever having stepped foot in Louis’ room), but it’s still a little weird to actually see them both in here. It’s not entirely unprecedented for Nick and Louis to be hanging out together, but it’s definitely not ordinary. 

_Today’s not ordinary though._

“Couldn’t wait for the dirt, huh?” Nick winks at Harry and pats the bed a few times. “Get in here. Louis was just telling me about _her_ day. It doesn’t sound nearly as fun as ours, but almost as exciting.”

Harry joins the step-siblings, sitting on the end of Nick’s twin bed where he’s half-sitting, half-lying. Louis is at the computer desk a few feet away, sitting backward at the desk chair so she’s facing Nick, and now Harry too. She’s wearing black slim-fit pants and a white patterned button-up shirt with the top half of the buttons undone, revealing a black and white striped undershirt. Harry can just make out black suspenders under an oversized (and really soft looking) rosy pink blazer-cardigan-sweatshirt thing with a cluster of patches on the left side. 

_She looks pretty cute for a jailbird._

“So I’ve already regaled Louis with the story of our day,” Nick tells Harry. 

“Oh, lucky you,” she smiles at Louis. “So,” she starts as she shrugs off her jacket, “how the _hell_ did you end up at the police station?”

“Oh my God,” Louis buries her face in her arms, which are resting one on top of the other on the back of the chair. “Do I have to? It’s so embarrassing!” she replies, the words muffled in the space between her arms. 

“Do you really want me to hear about it from Nick instead?” Harry teases. “Who knows what embellishments he’ll add.” 

“Hey!” Nick cries, as he sits up and reaches for Harry’s legs, grasping her calves and tickling her just behind the knee. Harry squeals and folds over, giggling and gasping for breath, before she jerks back up, arching her back and flipping her long hair out of her face where it’s all fallen as she tried to protect herself from Nick’s attack. 

He stops and Harry composes herself, playfully shoving his leg. “I thought you were supposed to be on death’s door.”

Louis rolls her eyes and exclaims, “Ok fine fine! I’ll tell you. If you promise to keep your hands off each other. I _just_ finished eating.” 

Harry laughs and flips her hair from one side to the other, scrunching the loose curls on the right side back into place and resettling herself. “Ok, deal.” 

Louis sighs as she launches into her story. “So, I was pretty pissed Nick was blowing off school and that our parents had completely bought it this morning like total suckers. It was pathetic, honestly. You should have seen them falling all over themselves over poor Nick, while he was winking at me and putting his finger over his lips so I wouldn’t rat him out.”

Nick gasps and puts his hand over his chest, playing innocent. “Are you suggesting I wasn’t as sick as I said I was?” 

Harry and Louis both roll their eyes and Louis can’t help but laugh. 

“It was pretty funny, I guess,” she begrudgingly admits. 

Nick nods triumphantly and Louis rolls her eyes again, shaking her head.

“So anyway, I got so _annoyed_ being at school knowing he was off enjoying himself that I eventually bailed. I drove home, and ran straight up to his room, and of course he wasn’t here. He had that stupid mannequin in his bed.”

“Which you almost _broke_ , busting in here!” Nick interrupts, looking indignant.

Harry smacks his leg playfully and shushes him.

“And just as I was trying to decide whether to feel vindicated or furious,” Louis continues, “I heard someone creeping around downstairs.”

Harry inhales a small, sharp breath. The only person it could have been was Eileen, maybe checking on Nick between open houses, but how would Eileen catching Louis skipping school have ended up with the police getting involved? “Who _was_ it?” 

“Well, I assumed it was Nick, and I got all excited like I’m finally going to catch him in the act. So I go back downstairs, as quietly as I can, and I start tiptoeing in the direction of the other person’s steps. And right when I’m just around the corner from him, I jump out with a ‘ha!’ like GOT YOU, BRO! But instead of Nick, it’s fucking Principal Cowell!”

“What?!” Harry shouts. She hadn’t realized Louis’d had a run-in with Cowell earlier in the day, too, before she’d let Nick in that evening. “What the hell was he doing here? He was _inside_ your house?!”

“Yeah, it was totally insane,” Louis continues. “But I didn’t even recognize him at first. I was so sure I was going to see Nick that when it turned out to be some old guy I freaked out and survival instinct must have taken over. I just screamed, kicked him, and ran upstairs, still screaming.” 

Harry interrupts, “You _kicked_ him?” 

Louis laughs, “Yeah, in the _face_ actually. And like three times in rapid succession – I don’t even think my foot hit the floor – it was like ‘bam-bam-bam!’” Louis flicks her foot out a few times to demonstrate. 

“Oh my God!” Harry honks out a laugh. 

“I honestly don’t know how I even did it. My hamstring is pretty sore.”

Harry shakes her head in amused disbelief. “Advanced-level aerobics move! No wonder you’re sore.” 

“Tell me about it,” Louis responds. “And I do _not_ do aerobics, you know.”

Nick and Harry both laugh at the thought. 

“So anyway, I run up to my room and close and lock the door, still just completely freaked out that there’s this man in our house in the middle of the day. And I have no idea if I’ve made him furious now or what he wants or what the fuck he’s doing here–”

“God, Louis, that must have been so terrifying!” Harry is starting to feel a little guilty for laughing before.

“It really was! My adrenaline was pumping so hard.”

Harry nods emphatically, eyes wide. “It must have been!”

Apparently getting impatient, Nick finally jumps in with, “Come on, Harry, let her finish, would you?” 

“Well excuse me for trying to imagine how much your poor sister must have been freaking out!” Harry shoots back, trying to keep a playful tone with Nick, but feeling a bit of an edge sneak in. “Of course you wouldn’t get it.” She rolls her eyes at Nick. “Boys!” she adds with a sigh, looking back at Louis apologetically and nodding encouragingly. “Sorry, Louis. Go on.” 

Louis looks a bit surprised by the interlude, but continues. “Yeah, so anyway, as soon as I’m in my room, I grab my phone and call 9-1-1 to report an intruder, and I just start begging them to send someone to help me.” 

Harry stares at Louis, hanging on her every word. 

“And this total _asshole_ on the phone is being…well...a total asshole. She doesn’t even believe me, keeps saying things like I shouldn’t tie up 9-1-1 with prank calls.”

“What the fuck?!” Harry shouts. Her back straightens and stiffens, protective mode fully engaged. 

“And I keep trying to tell this idiot that I’m not lying. I guess I sounded pretty hysterical but do people ever sound calm when they call 9-1-1? It’s for _emergencies!_ ”

“Yeah exactly!” Harry is staring intensely at Louis, as if willing her anger to reach the emergency operator through her memory. “What bullshit!” 

“So finally I got so frustrated I just called her an idiot or something and hung up on her. I was so pissed!” 

_“I’m_ pissed and I wasn’t even there! God, Louis, I can’t believe that jerk. I’m so sorry!” Harry looks over at Nick, her eyes hot, and demands “Can you _believe_ that?! What the hell?” 

Nick looks like he doesn’t quite know what to make of his girlfriend in this worked up state, like it hadn’t occurred to him that this was more than just a ridiculous story. “No, yeah, it’s bogus,” he manages. 

“Why would they think you were making it up?! What assholes!” Harry turns her attention back at Louis, who actually seems quite a bit calmer than Harry. Her mouth is slightly open, like she can’t quite believe how upset Harry got either. 

_Oh. Why am I more worked up than either of them? Am I making too big a deal of this? Wait, no, but this_ **_is_ ** _truly fucked up. Poor Louis all by herself, freaked out, and the people that are supposed to help don’t even believe her?_

_I wish I could have been there with her._

That thought calms Harry almost immediately (no idea why), and she feels her body relax along with her expression. 

Louis seems to notice the shift, and gets back to her story, seeming eager to finish. “So anyway, what felt like forever later, the police finally show up, and I’m dumb enough to think they’re here to investigate.”

Harry nods along, very consciously willing herself to keep quiet as Louis continues.

“And, instead, these guys claim I made a phony phone call and take me to the police station.”

“Out- _rage_ -ous! _That_ is outrageous!” Harry huffs, trying to keep her tone measured. “God, Louis. I can’t believe _any_ of this.” 

Louis smiles appreciatively at Harry, but then quickly looks down, her eyebrows furrowing. She shifts in her chair a bit, and looks to Harry like she’s started to feel uncomfortable. 

Harry isn’t sure if Louis just isn’t used to this much attention directed at her or if re-living the story is making her upset, but she decides to try to lighten the mood.

“Well,” she sighs. “I feel like Nick and I should apologize to you. If we hadn’t skipped today, you might not have ended up...incarcerated.” Her voice drops to a whisper and she shifts her eyes back and forth dramatically on “incarcerated.”

Louis lets out a giggle as she looks back up at Harry. _(Success!)_ “Oh, it’s not _your_ fault,” she sighs as her giggles subside. “If anyone, it’s Nick’s.” 

Louis and Harry both turn toward Nick, eyebrows raised. 

“Hey! I just took a day off. I didn’t tell you to go all Karate Kid and crane-kick our principal!” 

Louis can’t help but laugh at that. “And anyway, at least they didn’t actually book me. I just had to sit around on the couch in the police station for a few hours until Eileen came to get me. She was plenty pissed though, so you could at least work your charm on her tomorrow to get her to cut me some slack.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Nick answers, lacing his fingers together and reaching out dramatically in front of him to mime cracking all his knuckles at once as he tilts his head to the left and then right. _Dork._

“Ugh, _tomorrow,”_ Louis sighs. “I can’t believe I have to go back to school tomorrow.”

Her right hand forms a fist and the bottom knuckle on her index finger pops as she shakes her head. “Goddamn Principal Cowell,” she almost growls out through gritted teeth. “This is really all _his_ fault. I should have kicked him in his stupid pec implant.” 

They all burst out laughing. 

Harry’s laugh gradually gets louder than both Louis’ and Nick’s, eventually turning into squeals. 

Nick turns toward her, with a huge grin still on his face, but his laughter nowhere near matching Harry’s. _“What?!”_

“I just _cannot_ believe you triple-kicked Cowell in the _face!_ ” she gasps at Louis, still not quite able to believe it, still trying desperately to picture it. Louis breaks into laughter too, and Harry delights at how her eyes squeeze shut. She feels a pinch of disappointment when Louis moves her hands up to cover her face as her mouth starts to distort from how hard she’s laughing. _It_ **_is_ ** _completely adorable, but I can’t see her faaace._

Harry’s a little surprised at her reaction. _Adorable? Since when do I think of Louis as adorable? It_ **_is_ ** _adorable. That’s just a fact. But what gives? And why do I care about seeing her face?_

She doesn’t get a chance to think too much about it before Louis cries back, “I told you I didn’t realize it was him!” She pulls her hands apart to reveal her laughter-wrecked face ( _Yes, nice. Again, what?!)_. “What would _you_ have done if you expected Nick and then a _dumb hunking oaf_ jumped out at you?!” 

Tears are starting to stream down both their faces as they gasp for breath between laughs. Nick has had more time to get used to the image, but still can’t help laughing along with them. It _is_ a spectacularly hilarious image: Louis essentially doing a Rockette-style kick-line of one directly into Principal Cowell’s smug face. If only Nick had included surveillance cameras in his sick day set up. 

Harry is just starting to compose herself when she has a thought that gets her giggling again. “I just wish you _would_ have realized it was him right after you kicked him. Like, “whack-whack-whack…‘Oh! Principal Cowell! OOPS!” She exaggerates a shrug with one arm and devolves back into a fit of wheezing laughter as Louis continues the imagined encounter, barely managing to eek out, “Hi!” before losing it to a new wave of giggles herself. 

Their laughter is interrupted by a shout from downstairs. “Louuuuuuis! Phooooone!” 

Louis gasps for breath, trying to quickly compose herself. 

“Louiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis! _Phone!”_

“Who is it?” Louis yells back, louder and more irritated than warranted, but Harry guesses she and Eileen have probably had a pretty tense few hours. Louis’ eye roll is interrupted mid-way when Eileen shouts back.

“Some boy! Zayn? He sounds like he just woke up! Pick up, please! I’m trying to help your father finish the dishes!” 

“Zayn?! How did he...” Louis whispers. Her eyes widen and she immediately gets up and starts heading for the door, tripping a bit over the chair. 

Harry, for her part, has never heard of this Zayn. Zayn definitely does not go to their school. Harry may have been the new kid this year, but she knows there’s definitely no Zayn. And sure she’s not exactly one of Louis’ best friends (does Louis _have_ best friends?) but Harry spends enough time at the Tomlinshaws that she thinks she’d remember a ZAYN. 

_Who is this Zayn?_

_Why is he calling_ **_right now_ ** _when they're having so much fun? And why does Louis seem so happy that Zayn is calling when_ **_they're_ ** _having so much fun? Is she actually going to take the call? Why did she_ **_whisper_ ** _Zayn like that?_

_WHO. THE FUCK. IS ZAYN???_

“Who’s Zayn?” Nick teases.

 **_Thank_ ** _you, Nick_.

Nick having unknowingly given voice to Harry’s internal shouting, Harry allows her eyes to dart from her fingernails, which she’d been furiously examining, up to Louis’ face, eager for her response. 

Louis’ face reacts immediately to the expectant eyes on it, flushing a bright pink to accompany the nervous staccato laughter that escapes despite her trying to keep her lips pressed together. “Oh...just...um, just this...guy I met today...while I was...um, out,” Louis manages to stutter while awkwardly stumbling backward out of Nick’s room. 

“LOUIS!!!” Eileen screeches from downstairs. “Pick up the damn phone!!!”

“I better just...I’ll just go grab that in my room. Um. So. See you two later.” 

Between her graceless exit and bumbling answer, Nick and Harry can’t manage to do anything but just watch her, Nick with an amused, ready-to-mock-but-deciding-to-be-merciful-for-now brotherly smirk, and Harry with more bewilderment than anything. At Louis _and_ her own thoughts. 

_Well that answer explained exactly nothing. Who the hell_ **_is_ ** _Zayn?_

When Louis’ safely out of hearing range, Nick turns to Harry with a devilish smile and says, “Bet it’s the guy from the police station. Apparently when my mom showed up she was making out with some grungy dude on the waiting room couch.” He shakes his head and tsks, “Shameless.”

“No way!” Harry tries to set her facial expression into an appropriate level of surprise, but she’s not sure she’s pulling it off. She’s too distracted by her racing thoughts. _Louis was_ **_making out_ ** _with a stranger? A_ **_criminal_ ** _! That’s not at all like Louis. Is it? What the hell? And...why do I even care? Why don’t I just find it funny like Nick does? It_ **_is_ ** _funny, right? Why doesn’t it feel funny? What is up with me? What is up with_ **_Louis?_ **

_What the fuck is up with everything?_

“A life of crime really brings out the best in her, it seems.” Nick cracks, mercifully breaking Harry’s spiral. He’s so good at that. Harry smiles appreciatively at him, getting up from the foot of the bed and carefully moving up the mattress to lie on her side next to Nick, resting her head carefully on his chest and wrapping her right arm around his waist. Nick wraps his right arm around Harry’s back and kisses the top of her head as he starts running his fingers through her long loose curls. 

It doesn’t take too long for Harry’s thoughts to settle back into a peaceful contentedness, forgetting about Zayn and Louis for the time being. Nick chatters away about the day’s adventures, congratulating himself good-naturedly for pulling it off, and musing about poor Liam at home with his dad. “Wonder how _that’s_ going?” he asks rhetorically. Maybe it’s not going at all. Maybe Liam’s hiding under his comforter, thermometer hanging from his mouth, index and middle finger checking his racing pulse, praying his dad for once skips his nightly pilgrimage to the garage. 

Harry simply “hmmm”s along in all the right spaces. Nick doesn’t need her for this, really, so she just eases into the role of audience, fitting perfectly against his chest, enjoying the gentle scratches of his fingertips down her scalp. This is nice. Familiar. Comfortable. Good, too. Really good, even. But mostly, it’s easy.

Just...easy.

~

Harry’s not exactly sure how long she and Nick are lying there, cuddling and talking and joking around. It’s probably getting close to time for her to go, though. Her curfew is 11:00 and it must be getting near then. She leans over Nick to check the clock on his bedside table. 10:12. She’s still got time. 

But just then, Nick’s parents approach the doorway. 

Eileen’s voice reaches the room before she does. “We’re heading to bed, Nick. Just wanted to check – Oh! Harry, sweetie!” She enters the room as Mark hangs back on the other side of the doorway, quiet as usual. 

“You really shouldn’t be so near him. _You_ don’t want to have to miss school, too!” 

Harry knows Eileen is just being thoughtful, but honestly she could benefit from the occasional chill pill. She can be such a drama queen, especially when it comes to Nick. But there’s no point in pushing back on this. Harry smiles sheepishly and untangles herself from Nick, getting up. She murmurs something about it being ok – she never really gets sick. 

“Well, even so,” Eileen moves to feel Nick’s forehead _(drama queen)._ “Probably best for you to go on home, honey. Nick needs his sleep, anyhow. He needs to recover, poor baby.” 

Nick and Harry share a look, and Harry blows him a kiss. _God knows what Eileen would do if I tried to give him an actual kiss goodbye_. She grabs her purse and her jacket and follows Eileen and Mark out of the room. Nick winks and makes a kissy face as she turns back at the doorway. 

Harry smiles and gives a quick wink and turns back around, exiting the room and closing the door. The parents have almost made it to their room, and Harry hangs back a little, calling a quiet “goodnight” to them as they reach their room and close the door behind them. Harry shakes her head with amusement at them and starts for the stairs. 

She notices Louis’ door is partially open, her light still on. Harry can hear what sounds like Louis (finally) ending her phone call with this Zayn person. _Have they been talking this_ **_whole_ ** _time? It’s been an hour!_

Harry pokes her head into Louis’ room – just saying goodbye; it would be rude _not_ to! This is emphatically not about trying to interrupt this phone call. 

Louis is lying on her bed, twirling her phone cord in her delicate fingers. She’s laughing quietly as she agrees to whatever this Zayn is saying on the other end. She’s still wearing her outfit from the day but she's taken off the cardigan, having slung it over a chair. 

She’s lying on her stomach, feet pointed toward the door, so she doesn’t see Harry even as she takes a step in from the hall, filling the doorway, angling for an invitation. Harry’s right eyebrow arches up instinctively, pulling her head into a slight tilt as she notices the supple curve Louis’ ass forms. 

_Oh._

How had she never noticed _that_ before? Louis _does_ wear a lot of oversized tops _. I must just never have seen. Because I definitely would have noticed. Why has she been hiding that?_ Harry would kill for that ass. She has a perfectly nice, but quite small one herself, and often finds herself noticing other girls’ more...ample ones, wishing she had one like that.

Harry’s eyebrow settles back down, but she stares at Louis for a few or ten seconds longer before she finally realizes what she’s doing and shakes herself out of her trance. _What's gotten into me? Creep._ She very lightly taps on the door frame to get Louis’ attention. 

Louis cranes her neck to turn toward her door without having to move too much from her position, face ready in an annoyed expression, probably expecting her dad or Eileen. 

“Oh! Harry!” Louis startles, her face instantly softening as Harry mouths “sorry!” and offers a small wave goodbye. “No wait, it’s ok, we were just saying bye.” She quickly gets off the call with Zayn, smiling a bit too brightly if you ask Harry. _Who even is this guy?_

“Parents already go to sleep?” Louis asks, shifting positions so she’s sitting up, facing Harry. 

Harry nods. “Yeah, but they made sure to caution me against catching whatever Nick has on their way to bed.” They both laugh at how thoroughly they’ve bought – always buy – Nick’s sick routine. 

“So they kicked you out for your own good?” Louis shakes her head, eyes gleaming as though she almost has affection for how ridiculous her dad and Eileen can be.

“Basically,” Harry laughs back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say–" 

Louis interrupts, stepping over the end of her sentence with, “Well _I'm_ not sick. Want to hang out in here for a bit?” 

Harry's a little caught off guard by the invitation. She doesn't think they've ever hung out without Nick. But she can't ignore the feeling of relief that Louis doesn’t want her to leave yet. And even if she doesn't quite understand it, she’s not ready to go either.

Harry nods with a smile and a quiet “sure” and walks into the room, crossing over to the bed. The one other place to sit in Louis’ room is a chair that’s covered in more clothes than are probably left hanging in the closet – the pink cardigan at the top of the pile. 

Harry raises her eyebrows at Louis, silently asking for permission to join her on the bed, and Louis responds with a bright, “yeah sit!” Harry sits cross-legged at the end of the bed, the same way she had when she joined Louis and Nick in Nick’s room a few hours ago. She's facing directly toward Louis, who’s sitting up now, back against the wall that serves as the bed’s headboard. 

“So,” Harry starts, wasting no time. “Who’s Zayn?” 

_Shit._ She can’t believe she just jumped straight to that question, but here they are. She feels a little guilty for causing Louis’ cheeks to flush so immediately. She hadn't meant to embarrass her.

Harry tries to smooth it over, casually explaining, “I just mean, I don’t think I know that name. It’s not someone from school, is it?”

Louis meets Harry’s gaze, but her eyelids flutter a bit. _I don’t think I ever thought Louis could be shy. It’s pretty cute._

“No, not from school, um,” Louis starts. “I met him at the police station. He was there too. Waiting.” Louis’ eyes squeeze shut suddenly as she sucks in a breath and then practically hisses, “We made out on the couch!” She grabs the pillow next to her and slams it up into her face, leaving it there so she can hide behind it. 

_Yeah, I_ **_know_** _._

At least Harry manages to keep _that_ thought in her head. Aloud, she just responds with lighthearted teasing. “Louis! Wow. You really _did_ have an exciting day!” 

Louis pulls the pillow down from her face and sets it back down next to her. Her bright blue eyes are glistening and she has a look of pride and disbelief mixed together. She looks soft and vulnerable. And she’s glowing. 

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different. It _feels_ different.

“Well I didn’t immediately jump him!” Louis’ laugh breaks through Harry’s thoughts. “I kind of hated him at first, honestly.” 

_Ok, there’s the Louis I know._ Harry smirks and scrunches her nose with a tiny sniff. 

“I just thought he was this loser druggie. He talked like he was half-asleep. Kind of looked like it too. And he was so _nosy._ A total know-it-all.” 

“Sounds like a perfect date,” Harry can’t help herself. 

Louis squints at Harry and sticks out her tongue. “But I don’t know. I came around on him. He just seemed so sincere in his pestering,” Louis laughs. 

Harry frowns.

“But seriously,” Louis continues. “He was just so genuinely interested. In _me._ I don’t get that a lot. He drew me in. He has these dark broody eyes and he was looking so intensely at me. It was kind of hard to look away. And somehow, after just a few minutes really, he seemed to just see through me a bit. Called me on my shit.”

“What do you mean? What did he say?” Harry is surprised to find herself somewhat interested in this Zayn guy, despite herself. If he’s even partially responsible for Harry getting to see this new side of Louis, maybe he’s not _all_ bad.

“He said I should spend more time thinking about myself. Not worrying about what Nick is doing.” Harry raises an eyebrow and Louis explains, “I had told him how pissed I was that Nick got to blow off school. I got a little ranty, like I can get when it comes to Nick getting away with stuff. And he just...cut me off as I was trying – and flailing a bit, honestly – to explain why I was annoyed. He basically told me to get over it and focus on my own stuff. Just like that. Like it was simple.”

“Wow, a wise delinquent.” Harry jokes lamely. 

“I know, right?” Louis laughs. “Of course that just pissed me off more, at first. Who did this guy think he was anyway?” 

_My thought exactly._

“He didn’t _know_ me. But he wouldn’t let me brush it off. He kept pressing me on it. And eventually I realized he had a point. Why _do_ I care if Nick cuts school? Why does him getting away with stuff bug me so much?” 

“He _does_ get away with everything, though,” Harry offers sympathetically. 

“True. He’s such a punk.” Louis jokes. “But he’s also the earnest little pipsqueak who knew exactly what I was going through when our parents got together back in fifth grade. And that could have made us hate each other. He could have blamed my dad for keeping his mom from getting back with _his_ dad. Could have blamed _me_ for it – which _really_ would have pissed me off.”

Harry offers a supportive smile as Louis continues. 

“I could have shut him out for being his mom’s kid – his mom who was always polite to me, but...I don’t know...never quite thought I was anywhere near as good as her own kid.”

Harry’s heart clenches at that. She watches Louis with concern, hoping her eye contact isn’t making Louis uncomfortable. All Harry wants to do is reach out, or crawl over to put her arm around Louis’ shoulder, just offer some gesture of support as Louis pours her heart out. But something holds her back. She settles on an encouraging, sympathetic smile, and hopes her eyes are communicating what her hands can’t. 

Louis looks directly at Harry for a moment and whatever Harry is doing seems to be ok, because Louis continues. 

“But instead of becoming enemies – taking out whatever bad feelings we had on each other – we seemed to really _get_ each other. We each knew it sucked when our parents split up. And we knew it kind of sucked when they got together with other people. But somehow we also knew none of it was our fault, and we were in this thing together.”

Nick’s never really talked about this time in his life. Harry knew the basic facts, but Nick isn’t really the type to open up about his feelings. Certainly not his feelings about his parents’ divorce and his mom’s remarriage. And Harry had just assumed he didn’t talk about it because it hadn’t bothered him too much. He was so well adjusted and easy going – so lighthearted – that Harry never figured there was much angst in his past. 

“So, what happened?” Harry asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, come on. I mean, I know you and Nick don’t hate each other or anything, but you're not exactly lacking in sibling rivalry. What happened to the ‘us against the world’ vibe?” 

“Yeah, we do enjoy getting under each other’s skin, don’t we?” 

“Just a bit, yeah,” Harry laughs, thinking of all the spats she’s witnessed over the past several months. Nick snapping Louis’ suspenders and getting a death glare in exchange. Nick asking Louis to borrow her car and getting “Why don’t you just drive your computer, dickhead?” as a response. And about a million other examples. 

“Well, yeah, I’ll admit it’s not all warm fuzzies anymore. Even today – before I saved Nick’s butt from Cowell at the back door – I was _definitely_ planning to rat him out. If it weren’t for Cowell’s dumbass assistant, Mrs. Winston, I would have. But she refused to tell me where he was. Probably because he was sneaking around my damn kitchen!” 

They both burst out laughing, and immediately clap their hands over their mouths, trying to keep quiet so as not to incur the sleepy wrath of Eileen. 

“Ok, so what happened then? Between fifth grade and now?”

Louis sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. Nothing major, really. It didn’t happen all at once. It probably started in seventh grade, when we moved from elementary to junior high. Nick had really gotten comfortable in his own skin. I think having both his mom and my dad thinking he was God’s gift didn’t hurt.” 

Harry’s heart tightens at the thought of Louis having to see her own dad take to Nick in a way Nick’s mom clearly hadn’t taken to Louis. That must have hurt a lot. She’s about to say as much, but hesitates, just offering a sympathetic smile instead. Louis returns her smile, a flash of appreciation dashing across her shining blue eyes. Harry’s stomach flutters at the thought of Louis maybe being able to tell what she was thinking. 

“So, anyway, seventh grade, at this new school, is really where Nick became _Nick Grimshaw_. Not quite the Nick of today – the guy who inspires a town to inscribe ‘Save Grimace’ on its water tower when he fakes a sick day – but on his way to that guy. He started making friends with basically everyone. He never was a star student or athlete but it didn’t matter. Teachers loved him. Even older students loved him. He charmed everyone. And I, well, I didn’t have quite as easy a time. I was much quieter, much more reserved. I kind of just...faded into the background.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers. 

“Nick tried at first, he really did, to be a good brother. He’s not a bad guy. He did his best to include me. Was always introducing me as his sister, sometimes joking we were twins, even. At some point someone started calling us Tomlinshaw, combining our names.” 

Harry had often wondered where that started. She kind of assumed Nick had made it up; it seemed like a Nick thing to do. 

As if she can sense what Harry’s thinking (again), Louis adds, “Nick loved it. I think he thought I did too. And I guess I found it kind of funny at first, or cute at least. Because I _did_ like being Nick’s sister. Nick _Grimshaw_ ’s sister. It felt like being seen. Until it didn’t. What Nick didn’t realize – but I eventually did – was that people didn’t see us the same way. They didn’t see _me_ at all. Just Nick’s sister.”

Louis had started fidgeting with her fingers, picking at the cuticles on her left hand with her right thumb and index finger. “I noticed things like – this is going to sound so stupid, but – people called Nick ‘Tomlinshaw,’ they did. But they also called him Nick. They also called him Grimshaw, and eventually he got that dumb nickname, Grimace, too.” 

Harry shakes her head with a smile. She thinks that nickname is pretty funny, actually, in the way it’s pretty funny when a huge guy gets called “Tiny.” But it _is_ dumb, too. 

“And yeah I think it’s fucking stupid. But it’s also specifically his. I just got Tomlinshaw. Almost never Louis, let alone any kind of friendly nickname that was just mine. And when I _did_ hear my name at school, it was almost always from teachers. All the kids just came to know me as Tomlinshaw. Dumb thing to be mad about, right?” 

“No–” Harry starts.

But Louis keeps going, “It just. It made me feel erased, you know? Like the only value I had in all these kids’ eyes was just as part of a duo with Nick. And really, the half of the duo they could manage without. No one disliked me, or treated me badly. I wasn’t bullied or anything. They just didn’t care. I just might as well not have been there at all.”

Harry’s brows furrow as her heart aches. She searches desperately for the right words to offer, as though there might be some magic combination that could reach back to younger Louis and somehow help her feel less alone. But there isn’t. All Harry can do is be here now, make sure Louis knows she’s not alone now. That Harry sees her. 

“Louis, that sounds really hard. I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t great. I was fine though. I figured out a way to be fine. At first I kind of retreated into myself. Just stayed quiet and tried to convince myself it didn’t bother me. But it did. And eventually being sad turned into being pissed. Who needs these jerks anyway, right? That’s what I tried to tell myself to feel ok about the fact that they weren’t interested in me at all. These idiots who fall all over my brother like he’s some kind of god, when really he’s just a class clown who happened to be lucky enough to be good looking and have a great voice. Oh– no offense.” Louis looks up from her hands and gives Harry an apologetic look. 

Harry shakes her head and deadpans, “No, no, that about sums Nick up.” Louis laughs gratefully and Harry gives her an encouraging smile. 

“So I just convinced myself I didn’t need them, or anyone. That I was avoiding everyone because I didn’t like them – and not the other way around. And that kind of mentality is bound to harden you, I suppose. Make you a little angry, a little mean. So I started _treating_ people like I’d convinced myself I felt about them. Basically, I turned into an asshole.”

A small surprised sound escapes Harry’s mouth. She’s certainly heard other people call Louis that, but she didn’t expect Louis to own it. 

“If you can’t join ‘em, beat ‘em, right?” Louis half-jokes. “And amazingly, being rude to people all the time doesn’t help make you friends. But at least then I could point to a reason people didn’t want to be friends with me.”

“I totally get that,” Harry responds. “Reject them so you don’t have to think about being rejected yourself.” 

Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s and she smiles slightly, like she’s grateful for the understanding. “And if I’m honest, I probably blamed Nick for that. Even though it wasn’t his fault. He was just being himself. And people were drawn to him. And I was just being myself. And people weren’t drawn to me. But blaming someone else for your unpopularity is way more appealing than just admitting people don’t really like you.” 

Harry feels tears welling up, but she doesn’t want to cry. She doesn’t want to put Louis in the position of comforting _her._ But her heart is breaking a little.

“Louis,” she starts slowly, making sure her voice isn’t wavering. “That doesn’t sound like you were fine.”

Louis shrugs and sniffs, keeping her gaze down.

“Does it ever hurt?” Harry continues cautiously. “That people think you’re this cold, mean person?” 

“Well, I mean, I guess I kind of am.” 

“You’re not though. That’s not what I see.” 

Louis smiles slightly, a look of disbelief coloring her face. 

Harry scoots over on the bed to be within arms’ reach of Louis. She extends her right arm toward Louis and slides her finger under one of Louis’ suspenders, holding her gaze. Louis swallows hard, poor thing looking utterly baffled. Harry smiles just widely enough that her teeth start to peek out from between her lips, her dimple deepening, and tugs Louis’ suspender out a little like she’s going to playfully let it snap back. She raises an eyebrow, and Louis sucks in a little breath, flinching slightly. 

Instead of letting go, Harry softens her smile and carefully lays the suspender back down against Louis’ shirt. Then she raises the same hand and gently pokes the tip of Louis’ nose with a “boop!”

Louis lets out a burst of a giggle. “What was _that?_ ” she demands playfully, still laughing. 

“See,” Harry counters, “no one mean would have giggled at that.” 

“That was quite the risk, young Harold.” Louis scolds. “How’d you know I wouldn’t kick you in the face?” 

“Well,” Harry answers seriously, “Why do you think I didn’t actually snap your suspenders?” 

“So…” Louis deflects, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room. “I imagine my whole sob story isn’t terribly relatable to a cheerleader who’s been at Nick Grimshaw’s side since basically the minute she showed up at school in the fall?” Louis winces slightly, as though she didn’t mean the question to have quite the edge it did. 

But Harry takes in stride, sending a soft, breezy laugh across the room. “Yeah, well. I won’t pretend I’ve had a hard time of it here. Or anywhere, honestly. When your family moves to a new state every few years, you get used to meeting new people, making new friends. So I’ve been lucky that way. And my big sister helped. She’s a bit shy, but at least I had her as my wingwoman. I always knew I had her to fall back on, so it made it – I don’t know – less scary, I guess, to try to make new friends. Because the stakes never felt that high. And I think that gave me confidence. And that usually led to quick friends. I definitely wouldn’t say I’ve been the most popular anywhere. This school is the closest I’ve been to that. But comfortable, I guess, yeah.”

“Right, not popular.” Louis seems suspicious. “That’s what the most beautiful girls always say.” 

Harry looks directly at Louis, smiling brightly. “So is that what _your_ whole story was about then? A beautiful girl protesting too much?” 

Louis cheeks turn pink in an instant. “Oh, please.” Her face turns serious, then, casting her eyes down, her eyelashes flush against her skin. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t have to say that.”

Harry doesn’t bother arguing back, sensing Louis wouldn’t necessarily respond well to Harry insisting she _is_ beautiful. However genuinely Harry might mean it. So instead Harry flops backward on Louis’ bed, landing with a thud and patting the other side insistently. “Come!” she commands. “On your back. Next to me.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow and hesitates a moment before making her way back to her bed. She settles down next to Harry, as instructed. 

Unlike Nick, Louis has a full sized bed, plenty of room for both to fit. They’re not taking advantage of all the space though, lying closely side by side. Harry wonders if that was intentional. She wonders, too, if Louis having a double bed when Nick only has a twin is another concession from Eileen and Mark – like Louis getting a car while Nick only got a computer – as if they acknowledge on some level that Nick gets enough already. That Louis could use a little extra sometimes. _Or maybe they just never worried Louis would take advantage of the fact that she has space for another person the way Nick almost certainly would._ Harry chuckles lightly at the thought. 

“What is it?” Louis asks, picking her head up slightly. Harry can sense a bit of anxiousness in her voice. 

“Nothing,” Harry assures her. She gently pats Louis’s left hand, which is resting on the mattress between them, before laying both of her hands on her stomach and pulling in a smooth breath. “Right then. Ok, Louis,” Harry starts before Louis can worry about what they’re doing. “Tell me your least favorite thing about yourself?” 

“What? Why?” 

“So I can tell you why you’re wrong.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’ll go first if you want,” Harry offers. 

“My butt!” Louis blurts out. “It’s too big. I feel like I have to keep it covered all the time. It’s so embarrassing.” 

Harry laughs, causing Louis to cry, “See! It’s outrageous right? I knew it! God! I hate it.” 

“No, no” Harry protests. “I promise that’s not what I’m laughing at.” 

“Spare me,” Louis huffs. 

“No, seriously. I was laughing at myself, I swear on my life. Because when I first came in here tonight, when you were still talking to Zayn, you were lying on your stomach with your back to the door, and I…” _Well, this is humiliating._ “I didn’t mean to stare or anything – it just kind of happened – but I couldn’t help but notice that, well, you have a really _nice_ ass, Louis. It’s pretty perfect, actually.” 

_I can’t fucking believe I just said that. Out loud._ To _her. Jesus Christ._

“You’re just saying that,” Louis insists. “It’s really sweet of you, bu–” 

Harry turns her face toward Louis and stops her. “Hey. I’m not. I promise I’m not.” 

Louis turns to look at her, her cheeks flushed again. Harry looks straight into her eyes. 

“You should be proud of that butt, Louis. I would be.” 

Louis immediately turns her head back and stares at the ceiling. 

“Ok. Now ask me what I love most about myself?” 

“Hey! Why do you get to do love?” Louis whines. 

“I’m not the one with the self-image issue, Lou. I could probably use a dressing down, actually.” Harry playfully elbows Louis, eliciting a laugh. “Just do it, come on. Ask me.”

Louis elbows Harry back. “Ok fine. What do you love most about yourself, Harry?” 

Harry acts shocked by the question, “Oh wow, what a question. I’m not at all prepared.” She drums her fingers against her clavicle with a “hmmmm...”

“You’re such a dork,” Louis giggles. 

“Ok ok. Hair. My hair.” 

Louis makes a little surprised noise. 

“What? You don’t like my hair?” Harry accuses with an overwrought gasp. 

Louis pokes her thigh with her pinky and Harry giggles. 

“You have great hair, Harry. Gorgeous. I’m just surprised you didn’t say dimple.” She pauses for a split second before saying much more softly, almost imperceptibly, “That’s _my_ favorite thing about you.” 

“Oh really?” Harry teases. “You have a favorite thing about me, do you?” 

Louis pokes her harder this time, and Harry lets out a squawk. 

“Oh can it, cheerleader. You know that dimple is killer. It’s unreal, honestly. It’s like it pops up even when you’re just _thinking_ about smiling. It’s adorable. The cutest thing.” 

Harry turns back toward Louis again. “That’s really nice. Thank you.” Harry smiles broadly when Louis turns to face her, too. 

“See. There it is. Right on cue.” Louis reaches over to poke it. “‘Boop’ yourself, dork.” 

Harry bursts out laughing and Louis shushes her, to no avail. 

“Careful, last thing we want is the parentals busting in here,” Louis urges, as she tries to cover Harry’s mouth with her hand. 

Harry darts her tongue out and licks the part of Louis’ palm that’s over her mouth – a move she used on Gemma hundreds of times throughout their childhood with great success. 

Louis squeaks out a “Gross!” and pulls her hand away. They’re both trying to hold in their laughter now, and failing miserably. Harry tilts her head down in Louis’ direction, trying to stifle her laughter by burying her head in the space between Louis’ left shoulder and her neck. She feels Louis’ face turn toward her, her nose brushing gently against her hair. 

After a few seconds, they both manage to get their laughter under control and pull apart from each other. They’re still both on their sides, still facing each other. Harry uses her left hand to brush her hair back out of her face, but one deviant curl falls back. Harry sticks her bottom lip out and makes an exaggerated attempt to blow it off her face. 

Louis exhales a laugh, and they lock eyes, stilling both of them. 

Harry exhales and Louis, without breaking their gaze, reaches her right hand over to tenderly swipe the curl off Harry’s face, tucking it gently behind Harry’s ear. Suddenly, she pulls her hand back, a flash of nervousness flickering in her eyes. Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but Harry just smiles sweetly at her. 

Louis breaths out and presses her lips back together, the calm returning to her eyes. 

Satisfied that Louis isn’t worrying about the hair move, Harry finally breaks their stare, her eyes roving smoothly around Louis’ face. She doesn’t mean to pause when she reaches Louis’ lips, but she does. It might be her imagination, but they seem to relax just a bit, and Harry feels like she’s been caught. Her eyes shift back up to Louis.’ They seem wider than they had just moments earlier. 

Harry’s smile widens, and she’s suddenly very aware that her dimple must be showing. She huffs out a tiny, humored breath through her nose and rolls back to face the ceiling. 

Louis turns to face the ceiling again as well. She bends her right arm, tucking her hand behind her head. Harry places her right arm between them, and senses Louis’ left arm there too. Their arms don’t touch, exactly. But they’re just close enough that Harry swears she can feel the air particles bouncing between them. Or maybe it’s the peach fuzz standing on end all up and down her forearm. _Do I have actual goosebumps? Oh God, I wonder if Louis can feel it too. Why is my arm doing this to me?_

Harry isn’t at all sure what to think about that. Just like she isn’t sure what to think about the butterflies softly fluttering around in her stomach. Just like she isn’t sure why the hell she would say what she says next. 

“So, this Zayn guy? You like him?”

_Whyyyyyyy?_

Louis seems a bit startled. She moves her left arm from between them and places her hand on her stomach. 

_Shit._

“Um, I think so.” 

Harry feels her chest tighten, snuffing out the butterflies. “What did you two talk about tonight anyway? It seems like you were on the phone for a long time.” 

“Oh nothing really.” Louis’ voice sounds a little strained, like she’s putting her guard back up. “You know, just how my parents freaked out about me being at the police station. How much longer he had to stick around after I left. How he convinced the lady behind the desk to give him my number.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow at that last bit. _Shady._ She thinks about saying something to Louis, but she seems to be flattered by it. 

_Sweet girl doesn’t have douche-ray vision yet._

Harry decides to keep quiet for now, to let Louis enjoy feeling pursued a little while longer (however sleazy this guy might be). But she files it away as a little red flag and resolves to keep an eye on this Zayn guy. _I’m not about to let him hurt her._

“I told him what happened when I got home – about finding Cowell torturing Nick at the back door and saving Nick from probably being suspended or worse by confronting Cowell with his wallet, which I found on our kitchen floor.”

“I didn’t know that!” Harry gasps. “Wow. So basically you have Cowell’s balls in a death grip for the rest of the year.” 

“Oh my God, gross!” Louis groans. “But basically, yes.” Harry laughs. “I don’t know,” Louis shrugs. “We talked about all kinds of things. Kind of like us tonight. It was nice.” 

Harry’s relieved to hear that Louis sounds relaxed again. Not so pleased about Louis claiming to have shared something similar with Zayn when Harry has been thinking _their_ time has felt really special, but she tries to fling that thought away. 

“This _is_ nice,” she says, turning back toward Louis, who’s still looking up. 

“It is,” Louis agrees, smiling at the ceiling. 

Harry turns her head back away from Louis. She moves her left arm up to rest her wrist on her forehead, and catches a glimpse of her watch. “Shit,” she lets out, noticing the time. “It got late. It’s after midnight. How did that happen?” 

“I guess time flies when you’re talking about absolutely nothing,” Louis laughs. 

Harry could just laugh too, but instead she adds, “And everything. Yeah I guess it does.” Harry thinks she sees Louis’ head jerk slightly out of the corner of her eye, but she isn’t sure, so decides to pretend it was nothing. “I actually _am_ planning to go to school tomorrow – Nick has never quite figured out how to do two in a row – so I guess I have to.” She sits up and looks down at Louis with a half-smile.

Louis’ lips turn down and she gives a little nod. 

Harry gets up from the bed. “Plus, my mom is probably freaking out. My curfew is 11 and I promised I wouldn’t be late, which, oops. But I should get some sleep. Long day.” 

Louis finally speaks and raises herself up a bit from her lying position, her arms bent beneath her, elbows holding her up at a slight angle. “You sure you can’t stay? Just a little bit longer?” 

Harry smiles down at Louis. “Another time,” she says. She pulls her white leather jacket back on, reaching behind her neck to free her long hair from under it, the fringe that lines her sleeves bouncing as she does. “Promise.” 

Louis offers a satisfied smile in response as her eyes dart momentarily from Harry’s eyes to her lips and then bounce back up again. They’re a few feet apart now that Harry is standing, and Louis is still on the bed, so the movement could have easily escaped Harry’s notice. It could have. But it doesn’t. 

Harry noticed. 

And she notices her pulse start to quicken, too. 

_Was that...intentional?_

But before Harry’s thoughts can wander too far down that road, Louis gets up from the bed. 

“You’re right,” Louis finally agrees... _with... was that? Was that a_ **_sigh_ ** _I heard? Did she sigh? Did she sigh about me leaving? We’ve been having a nice time, I know. Ok, a really nice time. But is my leaving_ **_sigh-worthy_** _?_

_Maybe she feels like this has been special, too._

“Let me walk you out.” Louis offers, interrupting Harry’s wondering. And it’s Harry’s turn to sigh. 

Louis grabs a blue sweatshirt off the pile on her chair and pulls it on. It’s much bigger than it needs to be and is the softest-looking thing Harry’s ever seen.

Louis walks Harry out, both of them carefully creeping down the stairs to avoid waking Nick or the parents, holding in the kind of giggles that aren’t in response to anything funny but to the desperate need to remain absolutely silent in the face of incredibly low stakes. They somehow make it to the front door without rousing anyone, and both reach for the door knob at the same time, crashing their hands together as they both go to turn it. 

Louis pulls her hand back with a giggle, and Harry opens the front door, laughing at what dweebs they’re being. They start to say goodbye, doing that awkward unsure “should we hug or just give a nod or shoulder squeeze or what?” dance before they both kind of laugh-shrug and go in for a hug. Their shoulders-only, hips-out number slowly turns into a closer, firmer, proper hug.

_Am I lingering too long? All of sudden I have no idea how long hugs are supposed to last. Is it a second? Six minutes? How long has it already been – oh my God her hair smells really good. Don’t even mind that it’s tickling my face. Kind of even like it, maybe?_

Louis breaks the hug, pulling gently away, and Harry worries she definitely lingered too long. 

_What’s that look in Louis’ eyes? Good or bad? What’s that shape of her mouth mean? That scrunchy upside-down-V-shape?_ **_Was_ ** _it too long of a hug? Not long enough? Too firm? Did I_ **_actually_ ** _sniff her hair or just notice the smell of it and keep it to myself?_

_Oh god, just get to your car, Harry._

Harry manages a quiet “goodnight” and forces herself to leave the doorway before she can do any more damage. She starts to walk to her car, and can’t help but turn back halfway. 

Louis hasn’t closed the door even a little. She’s just standing there in the threshold, holding the door wide open with her right hand, her left hand adorably half-clenched in front of her mouth, biting at her thumb nail a bit, her arm pressed against her chest. She looks so snuggly in her sweatshirt, bathed in moonlight. 

Harry flashes a smile, and Louis beams back at her _(would you look at that, her smile is even brighter under the moon, how does_ **_that_ ** _make sense?),_ moving her left hand out of the way for long enough to knock a bit of breath out of Harry before she re-covers her face and moves her right hand off the door to give Harry a little wave. 

Harry turns back toward the car, quickening her steps until she reaches it. 

_I totally made that weird. Why does this feel weird? It’s just Louis, for Christ’s sake. It’s Nick’s sister. What’s wrong with you?_

She manages to only fumble with her keys for a second _(nailed it!)_ and gets into her car, not letting herself look back toward the door again until her seat belt and car are both on. When she’s about to put the car in reverse to back out the driveway, she finally lifts her eyes back up toward the house. 

The door is shut. Louis’s gone. 

Harry exhales dramatically, emptying the entirety of her lungs into her Volkswagen Rabbit. She’s not entirely sure if it’s a sigh of embarrassment _(that hug – come on! Why did you have to make it weird?)_ or regret _(just a hug, though? That’s it? After that whole night?)_ or hopefulness _(that_ **_hug_** _, though. This night. That_ **_smile..._ ** _)_ or all of the above. 

_Not now, Harry. It’s late. Figure it out later. Home for now. Just, home._

**~~~~~**

_Shit._

Louis’ back is pressed tightly up against the inside of the front door. She hears Harry’s car start and eventually back out the driveway and head down the street. Never has Louis so successfully exercised the sheer force of her will than when she refused to turn around and peek back out through the window after closing the door. Not even the peep hole! 

_Damn it. The peep hole! Why didn’t I think of that before now? I could have looked in secret. Pffft._

_Focus, Louis._

_Right._

_Ummmm, so, what was_ ** _that_** _exactly? Were we – was Harry_ ** _flirting_** _with me?? Do girls even flirt with each other? Can they?_

_Or is that just how girls hang out and it’s been so long since you’ve hung out that way with a girl – with anyone really – that you’ve turned into a total spaz who thinks completely normal hanging out is flirting?_

_Why would she ask about Zayn after all that? No, see, she obviously wasn’t flirting. She thinks you want to date Zayn_. _Of course she does._

_Zayn. That’s probably what all this is about. That, today, with him. The arguing and the talking and the making out and the talking more. About real things. Serious things. That was so much more than ever happens._

_Yeah, ok. I’m just overwhelmed is all. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m not thinking clearly. I’m exhausted. And Cowell, and the police station, and Zayn._

_No wonder I’m confused. It’s not about Harry at all. Everything is just amped up today. Today is insane. Harry is just part of that. I’m just reading too much into it._

_Stupid Zayn, telling me to focus on myself. This is what happens when I focus on myself. I start thinking my brother’s girlfriend is flirting with me._

_Maybe even start liking the thought._

_Louis, Jesus. You’re spiraling. You’re just flustered. Relax._

_Fucking Zayn. He did this. Got me so flustered. He is so annoying. Thinks he knows me. Thinks he can make me reevaluate my entire attitude and outlook with one observation. What an asshole._

_An asshole with deep dark eyes and perfectly messed, floofy hair, and ok sure a criminal drug history (alleged!)..._

_He did have a point though. Maybe I’m not as closed off as I think I am. Zayn sure as hell seemed to see right through me. Who would have thought a leather-jacket-clad drifter could be so wise? Speaking of leather jackets…_

_That white one with the fringe Harry was wearing tonight. Wow._

_Harry._

Harry who Louis noticed the first day of the school year, even before Nick swooped in and snatched her up. 

Harry who has only ever known Louis as Nick’s stepsister, but has never made her feel that way. Who complimented Louis’ car and then winked at Louis when Nick predictably started whining about getting a computer when _he_ asked for a car. Winked and smirked. Like they shared a secret. 

Harry who laughs along with Nick’s ribbing of Louis and Liam but somehow never seems to be laughing _at_ Louis or Liam – at anyone ever. Maybe it’s the look of...encouragement? that always seems to be present in her eyes. Her dazzling green eyes.

Harry who is so open and friendly and easy to be around. Who’s free with compliments without ever seeming disingenuous. 

Harry who likes Louis’ suspenders. Not like Nick, who always teases her about them, always snaps them and calls her grandpa – good naturedly, but still, enough to make her feel like maybe she’d be better off wearing a cardigan over them. Because Louis’ sure as hell not going to _not_ wear them at all. Screw that. Maybe just better not to flaunt them, though. 

But _Harry_ likes them. She always notices them. 

_And my ass, apparently._

_Oh my God._

_Did that happen? That part happened, right? I couldn’t have made that up._

_It definitely happened. That all happened._

_Unbelievable._

_This whole day has been unbelievable. The police station. Zayn. Goddamn Cowell. Kicking goddamn Cowell in the face._

_God, Harry’s reaction to that. I’ve never seen her laugh that hard. Maybe never seen anyone laugh that hard. It was amazing. And the way she pounded her fist against her thigh? Come on. Nothing has ever been that adorable. She’s such a dork. A completely endearing, devastatingly beautiful dork._

_A beautiful dork who is_ ** _dating_** **_your brother, Louis_** **.** _Your brother. Who is a boy. Boys are who girls date, Louis. Boys are who girls like. Who girls flirt with. Not other girls. That doesn't even make sense. You're not making sense._

_Harry is dating Nick. Of course she is._

_Actually, have Nick and I been more competitive since he started dating Harry? Maybe? But it’s our senior year. We’re anxious to get out of here. Is it really any different than it’s been since junior high? And Harry isn’t the only new thing in our lives. This summer, getting a car while Nick got a computer, that certainly didn’t help things. And we’ve always been like this. For years anyway._

_It’s not Harry. Definitely not Harry. Can’t be. It’s Nick always getting everything he wants. Always having it so easy. Always being dad and Eileen’s favorite, everyone’s favorite. Always getting to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The days off. The friends. The popularity. The girl…_

**_The_ ** _girl_ ** _._ **

_Harry._

Louis had believed Harry when she promised another night as she was getting ready to leave. She had believed the assurance in Harry’s smile. _That smile. Jesus._ But she still felt a little disappointed.

 _About what, though?_

This has been one of the most unexpectedly lovely nights she can remember. Probably ever.

_What more do I even want?_

Louis can’t answer that right now. She can barely grab hold of a single thought bouncing around, let alone enough to string together into anything that would make sense. All she can manage to hold onto long enough to keep still are two words. She repeats them over and over, willing herself calm. 

She’s finally able to peel herself away from the front door, no longer needing it to steady her as she had while her thoughts raced. She stays focused on those two words as she breathes in deeply and then exhales, readying herself to walk upstairs and back to her room to hopefully sleep.

Two words. 

Harry. 

And “promise.” 

~~~~~

Harry stares at herself more intensely than usual as she applies her lip gloss the next morning, no put-on funny face to distract herself from the careful, slick application like most mornings. Today she’s too distracted for her typical insistence that she not take her makeup routine too seriously, lest she become one of those girls who can’t stop admiring themselves and their pouty lips in their locker mirror between every class. Today she forgets to overthink what it means that she wants to look nice. She’s got too much on her mind for that this morning. She can’t quite hold any of her thoughts still enough to examine them, but the way they’re swirling around keeps her unfocused enough that she forgets to put in the extra effort to make sure she’s being her easy-going self. 

When she finishes, she glances up at her wall collage and locks eyes with Brooke Shields in her Calvins and mostly unbuttoned top, looking just as vaguely confused as Harry feels right now. It’s a little comforting and also a little unsettling at the same time. 

It might be another strange day. 

~~~

“‘Morning, sweetheart,” Harry’s mom greets her when she’s finally dragged herself out of her bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. 

“‘Morning, mom.”

“Got in late last night, didn’t you?”

“Mmm,” Harry responds as she opens the fridge and surveys her quick-breakfast options, too antsy to get to school for a proper breakfast.

“I’m surprised Nick’s parents let you stay over so long with him being sick. The way you’ve described them, I’d expect them to practically quarantine the poor boy.”

Harry giggles at the thought, which isn’t off-base. Her mom’s always been clever. “Well, actually, they did insist he go to sleep early.”

“Of course,” Anne responds in her amused self-satisfied tone. “Wait. So, where _were_ you then? I was up reading in bed for quite a while and I definitely didn’t hear you come in. Did you go to Niall’s? Sweetie, you know Robin and I don’t mind that kind of thing, but you have to call and let us know where you are.”

Harry rolls her eyes but can’t resist shooting her mom a smile as well. Her tendency to worry is mostly endearing, especially since she finally stopped insisting Harry call her from each place she arrived, without exception – even if it was just a friend’s place up the street, once Harry started high school. It had taken quite a lot of persuading, but Harry had been grateful and a bit shocked she’d eventually come around. 

“No, I stayed at the Tomlinsha– at Nick’s, I mean. But I was hanging out with Louis mostly. After Nick went to sleep.”

“Louis? His sister?” Harry’s mom sounds as surprised as Harry had felt at various points the night before. “I thought they don’t even get along. I thought she didn’t get along with _anyone.”_

Harry’s protective impulse kicks in at her mom’s statement, but she manages to keep her voice disinterested, she thinks. “Yeah, I always kind of thought that too, but turns out it’s not that simple.”

“No, I suppose it never is.”

“We actually had a great time,” Harry says, allowing a bit of excitement to creep into her tone. “She’s really funny and sweet, even. I think we might be becoming friends.”

“Well that’s lovely, dear.”

Harry’s “yeah” is lower and longer and breathier than she’d meant it, and she snaps her head up to see if her mom had noticed. She’s definitely got a slightly confused look on her face, but doesn’t respond. 

“Better get to school,” she hurriedly adds, doubling her volume and elevating her pitch in an attempt to distract her mom from whatever _that_ was – and maybe herself from whatever this is. She swipes an apple from the bowl on the counter and heads quickly for the door, pausing as briefly as possible to give her mom a kiss on the cheek on her way out. “See you tonight!” 

~~~

Harry’s concentration is broken mid-locker combination spin by a flash of bleached hair and a familiar voice. 

“Harry! What gives? You said you’d call me back last night!” 

Harry turns to face her best friend with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Niallie. I ended up staying at Nick’s way longer than I expected, and it felt too late to call. I didn’t want to get you grounded.”

“You and Nick didn’t get enough of each other spending all day together yesterday?” Harry’s relieved at Niall’s accompanying wink. The truth is she completely forgot about her promise to call her best friend by the end of last night, and seeing her just now makes her feel guilty. Of course Niall’s not mad, though. She basically never is. 

“Actually,” Harry concedes, “I ended up staying later because I was hanging out with Louis.”

“Ex-squeeze me?”

Harry laughs. “I know! But Nick’s parents made him go to sleep to ‘get better’ and I don’t know, I just didn’t want to leave yet.” The last few words come out rather softly, and she finds herself feeling immensely grateful that Niall doesn't seem to notice. She can’t even explain it to herself, let alone another person. She needs to fret about it for at least two hundred more hours first. Harry turns back to finish opening her locker and places the book she’s carrying inside. 

“Yeah but _Louis?_ You should have just come to my house if you didn’t want to go home.” Niall pulls Harry’s locker door open all the way so she can check her lip gloss in the mirror, making a kissy face at herself before turning back to Harry. “You didn’t have to hang out with _Louis._ " 

“Oh well, you know, it was probably too late to actually come over to your house. And besides, we actually...had fun.”

“Wow, H. Yesterday really must have been _some_ day.”

Harry chuckles and avoids Niall’s eye contact, rummaging around in her locker as though she’s looking for something, when all she’s really searching for is what to say next. Luckily, Niall’s never at a loss for words. 

“I mean, enough of a day to alter the fabric of reality and turn you and Louis Tomlinson into slumber party pals.” 

“I didn’t _sleep over!”_ Harry hisses, taken aback at her own frantic tone. 

Normally-unflappable Niall even flinches. 

“Easy, Harriet, geez.” 

Harry rolls her eyes at the stupid nickname Niall knows she hates and only uses when she’s trying to lighten the mood. Bless her. Harry laughs, grateful for the break in tension that she truly doesn’t even understand. _What is with me?_

“So what _does_ one talk to Louis Tomlinson about for hours on end, anyway?”

Harry’s managed to recover from whatever that spazz attack was all about. 

“Oh you know, the life of a teenage jailbird is all kinds of fascinating…”

“Oh my _God!”_ Niall practically lunges at Harry, linking their arms and turning them in the direction they both need to go for next period. “I can’t _believe_ I forgot about that! Tell me absolutely every single thing right this second, young lady!”

“You’re going to _freak!_ And you’re never going to think of Principal Cowell the same way again…”

~~~

“Hey babe,” Nick greets Harry as he pulls her close for a quick kiss. 

“So glad you’re feeling better, Nicky,” she teases, tucking into his side as he squeezes his arm around her shoulders. 

“You know me, I always bounce back fast.” He winks and Harry rolls her eyes, but can’t help but laugh. 

“I have noticed that, yes.” 

“Lucky me,” Nick replies, releasing Harry from his grasp and turning slightly to look directly at her. His face relaxes and a warm smile fills it. Harry smiles back and scrunches her nose at him playfully, but Nick’s expression remains sincere. Yesterday’s conversation about marriage pops suddenly into Harry’s mind and her muscles stiffen, the smile receding from her lips. Nick’s brow furrows slightly, as if he noticed the shift in his girlfriend’s demeanor and Harry isn’t up for trying to explain herself, so she hurries to think of a safer topic. 

Luckily, at that moment, she flicks her eyes away from Nick’s, trying to kickstart her brain, and she catches a glimpse of Liam at the far end of the hall, head tilted toward the floor, legs seeming even heavier than usual. 

“You talk to Liam today?” she asks Nick, grateful to have found something to talk about that she actually wants to know. 

Nick turns his head briefly to see what Harry had, and then turns back to Harry with a frown. “Yeah, just a little while ago. Seems his chat with his dad wasn’t quite as heart-warming as we hoped it might be.”

“I guess that’s not too surprising.” Harry sighs. “Is Li ok? Did he actually tell you about it? Did his dad freak when he saw the car?”

“Apparently he actually did hear Liam out, which in itself is a miracle.”

“Wow, yeah. I half expected he’d start screaming as soon as he saw the car and basically not stop.”

“That or kick Liam out of the house without a word.”

“So what _did_ happen?”

“Well there _was_ screaming,” Nick says. “And threats to call the police on him. But Liam said he stood there quietly and just let his dad yell at him for a while. And once he’d gone from shouting to eerily silent, Liam brought him a scotch, sat down near him, and asked if they could talk.”

“Wow.”

“I know, I don’t think Liam’s had a meaningful conversation with his dad that wasn’t just in his head.”

“Poor guy,” Harry sighs. She glances back to where she’d seen Liam but he’s gone.

“For real. I mean, my parents can be lame, but at least I’ve never doubted they _love_ me.”

“Well, that’s because they full on worship you.”

“You can’t really blame them though, can you?” Nick jokes.

Harry rolls her eyes and jabs Nick in the chest, but her laugh belies how charmed she is by her ridiculous boyfriend.

“Anyway, Liam said they actually made some progress. It didn’t end like an episode of _Webster_ or anything, but his dad might understand him a little bit more now. Might even take it a little easier on him...at least for a while.” 

“Progress, I guess.” 

“So, listen.” Nick’s tone shifts, taking on a hesitancy Harry doesn’t think she’s ever heard there. 

“What is it, babe?” Harry takes his hand in both of hers, pulling it toward her chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Nick flashes a somewhat restrained smile that Harry suspects is meant to reassure her, but mostly does the opposite. 

“So what _is_ it?”

“Well, while Liam and I were talking about his dad, he brought up wanting to get away this summer.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” 

“But you know Liam, how withdrawn he gets when he’s feeling trapped.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, her sympathy for Liam wrapping around her heart and squeezing lightly. The poor guy is so smart and loyal and can be really thoughtful and interesting, but he’s so easily discouraged, which so often leads to him getting depressed and closing himself off from everyone. And honestly, Harry can’t really blame him, living in that cold house, with his crappy parents and no siblings. She really feels for him. And is glad he at least has Nick.

“But of course,” Nick continues, “his versions of ‘getting away’ were all dark and dreary and absolutely the last thing that would help him get out from under the cloud of his father’s disappointment.” 

“Of course,” Harry nods. 

“His most light-hearted idea was finding a somewhere rainy and deserted with a rocky shore that needs a lighthouse keeper for the summer.” 

Harry laughs, relieved that some of the seriousness has finally lifted from Nick’s face. “Well I’m sure you had some brighter ideas for him.”

“You know I couldn’t leave him to his own devices. He’s not equipped.”

“So what did you suggest? A _Top Gun_ inspired flight school or something?”

“I knew I should have talked to you first!” Nick laughs, poking Harry gently in the ribs.

Harry grabs his finger with a squeal, bending slightly, her hair falling in her face before she yanks it back up as she recovers. 

“Nick!”

Nick giggles in the masculine way that’s practically his trademark. 

“Come on, what brilliant idea did you give Liam for his summer escape?”

“Well,” Nick starts slowly, the levity draining from his face, taking Harry by surprise. 

“Nick, what _is_ it? What’s going on?” She’s starting to worry.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. I’m just not sure how you’ll take it.” Not helping.

“Well just tell me, you freak! You’re making it worse!”

“Yeah yeah I know. I’m sorry.” 

Harry grabs his hand gently and smiles encouragingly. “What is it?”

“I told him we should go on a road trip.”

“That’s a great idea! Why wouldn’t I–”

“A cross-country road trip…”

“Oh,” Harry replies, finally getting it. “So, like...all summer?”

“Yeah, basically. At least most of it.”

“That’s intense.”

“Look, Harry...”

“No, listen, Nicky, it’s fine, honestly. I think that’s a great idea. For both of you.”

“But it’s our last summer. I mean, before...”

Harry squeezes his hand and catches his gaze, locking their eyes. “Nick. We’ll be fine. We still have time before you guys leave, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And Gemma will be back for the summer. I have Niall and my other friends. I’m not going to be moping around all summer pining after you, you know!”

Nick puts on a faux-outraged face. “What?! Are you suggesting your life won’t stop while I’m away?”

Harry laughs and playfully shoves his chest. “I might surprise you, Grimshaw” she says with a sly wink.

~~~

A summer without Nick? 

Harry hadn’t seen this coming. 

She wasn’t lying when she told him she’d be fine. She _will_ be. She’ll miss Nick, of course. But she’ll still have fun. She’ll get to spend more time with her sister and Niall. She can read more and see movies Nick wouldn’t want to see and think about what she wants to do after high school. She can explore the city the way normal people do – people who don’t have Nick Grimshaw to be their tour guide. It’ll be great. 

It just won’t be what she’d expected. 

“Harry, hi!” 

Harry shakes off the haze that had wrapped around her as she’d pondered her summer plans to see Louis a few feet away, walking toward her with a smile. 

Speaking of unexpected. 

“Hi, Louis,” she replies with a smile of her own. She feels her dimple form, and wonders if she’ll ever again not notice its arrival around Louis. 

“I’m so glad this day is finally over,” Louis sighs. “The number of times I wished I was back in the police station instead of stuck in class, I swear.” 

Harry laughs and Louis beams back at her. Harry’s still not at all used to seeing Louis with such a big smile. It does something to her chest that she doesn’t quite understand but is pretty sure she likes. 

“Well,” Harry says, “they say once someone’s gotten in trouble with the law, they’re much more likely to get in trouble again. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find yourself back there soon enough.”

“I suppose,” Louis sighs, her smile steadfast despite trying to play wistful. 

“Shall we go find you a school administrator to drop kick? Would that help?”

Louis yelps a laugh and just then Principal Cowell rounds the corner, stopping in his tracks when he sees Louis.

“Oh my God,” Harry cries, grabbing Louis’ arms and pulling her toward her, smushing their shoulders together. The two of them stand facing Principal Cowell, forming a wall. “Unbelievable,” she whispers into Louis’ ear, barely holding herself together. “Is this the first time you’ve seen him today?”

Louis nods, somehow having stopped herself from laughing. She reaches behind Harry and fists her hand into Harry’s sweater, her body tensing as Cowell takes a small step in their direction.

Both girls stiffen and glare at him in unison, halting him yet again. He opens his mouth as if to say something, and Louis calls out, “Lose your wallet again, Mr. Cowell?”

He snaps his mouth shut and turns on his heel, vanishing back around the corner as Louis and Harry dissolve into giggles, turning into each other and gripping at each other’s arms and hands. 

Eventually Louis regains her composure, sighing and shaking her head toward where Cowell had been standing. “Oh man,” she says, “at least these last few weeks of school are going to be a little fun.” 

Harry laughs and straightens her sweater, running her hand through her hair to put it back into place. “It _is_ going to be fun watching you torment Cowell as much as your brother usually does.” 

Louis smiles and nods. “Maybe even more.” She turns to look at Harry. “I _knew_ I could beat him at _something_ around here.” 

“Speaking of your brother,” Harry responds, laughing when Louis replies with a massive eye roll. “Did he tell you he’s going to be gone all summer?”

“What? No!” Louis replies, obviously surprised. “Oh,” she continues, more softly, disappointment filling her face. “Are you two going somewhere?”

“No, no, not me,” Harry rushes to respond, surprised by the urgency she’d felt to correct Louis’ assumption. “He and Liam are going on a road trip, male bonding and all that. Poor Liam needs to get away from his dad for a while.”

Louis looks relieved. Probably to just be rid of Nick for the summer is all. 

“Oh,” Louis exhales. “So, what are you going to do, then?”

“I honestly haven’t had much time to think about it. He just told me this afternoon before last period.” 

Louis smiles shyly, looking a bit nervous as she glances at Harry through her eyelashes. “Well, um, maybe _we_ could hang out, I mean, you know, just sometimes. If you’d ever want to.”

She does. Want to. 

“Yeah, definitely!” Harry responds, hoping her enthusiasm doesn’t frighten Louis away. She’d been so hopeful that they were becoming friends (or something) after last night, and so nervous that Louis might not actually have come away from it feeling the same. Even though it had seemed like they were both having fun. Louis had even asked her to stay longer. But maybe she’d just been caught up in the excitement of yesterday, or just didn’t want to be alone. Maybe it wasn’t anything to do with Harry. She tries to force the lingering doubts away, but they’re as stubborn as she’s always thought Louis is. “I mean…” Harry says, trying desperately to sound casual.

“Oh,” Louis’ face falls. “Yeah, I mean, we don’t have to. I know you have plenty of friends. I just thought...it’s, um...forget I said anything.”

“No, seriously,” Harry exhales. “I would love to hang out more. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to, just because–” 

“What?” Louis interrupts, confusion filling her face. “Why would you think that? Of course I don’t feel like I have to.”

“I just mean, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or feel responsible for making sure I’m not bored or lonely just because your brother’s abandoning me or something.” Harry laughs, but she can tell Louis doesn’t find it funny.

“It’s not that at all, Harry.” 

“No?”

“This has nothing to do with Nick. I just...had fun last night. With you.” Louis looks almost sternly at Harry, as though she’s willing her to take her seriously. 

Harry smiles, her tattle tale dimple returning to her cheek. She feels a little silly for questioning Louis’ motives. But it still just feels very new – and a little uncertain – between them. Though she still can’t put her finger on why exactly. 

“Ok, cool. As long as you really want to.”

The seriousness fades from Louis’ face, her pursed lips curling before she opens them to respond with a glint in her eyes. 

“Promise.” 


	2. Summer

_“Summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. For those few months, you're not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don't have the rest of the year. You can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. Summer just opens the door and lets you out."_

_―Deb Caletti_

*******

The first postcard Harry gets from Nick is from Graceland, about a week after he and Liam left on their summer-long road trip. They had decided to check out Memphis and Nashville then head up to New York and Boston before starting what was essentially a clockwise trip around the U.S. The postcard itself is pretty unremarkable – a picture of the house with "Graceland" sprawled across in large letters, each filled with pictures of different rooms, too small to really make out details. But the message Nick’s written Harry is perfect. It’s all about this one room in the house with a waterfall and floor-to-ceiling shag carpeting. He’s sure it would be Harry’s absolute favorite room and so doesn’t bother describing any others. Plus, he says, he wants to take her there someday and doesn’t want to ruin it by telling her everything now. 

Harry’s close-lipped smile stretches wider each time she rereads the card, which she does a handful of times, standing at the kitchen counter next to the pile of otherwise boring, grown-up mail. As she’s flipping it back over to try to find the room Nick described, the kitchen phone rings, startling her. She sets the postcard down and walks the few steps to where the phone hangs on the wall next to the refrigerator. 

“Hello, Twist residence.” 

“Henrietta!”

“Hi, Nellie.” 

Niall laughs louder than warranted, as usual. Harry loves that about her. 

“Whatya doing?”

“Nothing at all,” Harry replies. “Just got a postcard from Nick, and that’s the extent of excitement over here. Was going to clean my room maybe?”

“How about you don’t clean your room or reread your postcard from your perfect boyfriend 100 times in a row and instead we go see a movie or something?”

Harry rolls her eyes. “I’ve only read it like three times!” 

“Ok, Harriett. Whatever. Well I’m sure you can fit in a few more times before I get there to pick you up.”

“What movies are out?” 

_“Milo & Otis _ looks cute. _Karate Kid II_ is still out I think. Something with Bette Midler called _Ruthless People.”_

“Is _Milo & Otis _ that one with the cat and dog? Let’s see that!”

“Sounds good to me. It’s at the theater at the mall in an hour. You ready if I come by now?”

“Yep, see you soon.”

~

The movie is pretty adorable. Nothing not to love about a dog and a cat going on adventures as far as Harry is concerned. Afterwards, she and Niall go to the food court for Orange Juliuses. 

“So, what’d Nick have to say in his postcard?” Niall asks as they sit down with their drinks. 

“Nothing much,” Harry says before taking a sip. 

“Liam losing it yet?” 

“Probably,” Harry laughs. “But he didn’t actually write much about them. The card’s from Graceland, and Nick filled the whole thing just describing one of the more ridiculous rooms he thought I’d like. Promised to take me some time.” 

“God, he’s such a dream,” Niall sighs. 

“He’s definitely sweeter than I think most people would guess,” Harry agrees with a smile. It fades quickly, though. “Honestly, I was a little relieved he only wrote about Graceland.”

“What do you mean?” Niall asks, looking up from her straw with a puzzled expression. 

“I don’t know,” Harry continues. “We didn’t really talk that much before they left, and we definitely didn’t talk about the whole kind-of proposal thing he did that day we skipped. And I’ve been a little worried that once they left, Nick’d get all poetic about being apart and bring it up again.”

“Oh come on, H,” Niall replies. “I bet he hasn’t thought about that since that day. I mean, not that he’s not crazy about you. But I bet he was just caught up in the day. There’s no way Nick Grimshaw wants to tie himself down this young.”

“Oh thanks a lot!” Harry throws her wadded up straw wrapper at Niall, hitting her in the face with it and laughing. 

Niall fakes being injured for about half a second before she ruins it by laughing. She sticks her tongue out at Harry and throws the tiny paper ball back at her. “You know what I mean. He’s _Nick Grimshaw._ And he’s about to go off to college. And you’re still in high school. He may be ridiculous, but he’s not completely out of control.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. You weren’t there that day, Niall. He sounded pretty serious.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in. But you said yourself he hasn’t even brought it up again since that day, right?”

“True, yeah.”

“Maybe he just said it in the first place to make you feel more secure about you two since he’s about to leave. Like, to make sure you know he wants to stay together?”

“Yeah, ‘spose that’s possible,” Harry muses. “I mean, we haven’t actually ever talked about it, but I guess I have been assuming we’d stay together when he leaves for college.”

“Of course you have. He worships you. I’ve known Nick since we were kids and he’s never been more into a girl. And it’s not like there’s any other guy around here that’d be worth dating after Nick Grimshaw.” 

Harry smiles and leans to capture her straw in her mouth, tongue first. She takes a long sip and savors the sweet, cold confection. She may not have grown up in this town, but it didn’t take long to understand who Nick Grimshaw is, that he could get any girl he wanted. And Harry had liked Nick since the first time they’d talked. He’s funny and sweet and so confident and always made sure they had fun. She likes _him._ But Harry also knows that part of what makes being his girlfriend feel so good is knowing so many people wish they could be her. That out of basically every girl in their school – in the great Chicagoland area, honestly – he picked _her._ He wanted her most. Harry had been lucky enough to never feel unpopular or anything. But it’s not like she had a ton of experience with boys before moving here and meeting Nick. She was always friends with guys as well as girls. But she’d never dated much. And it felt – still feels – really good for someone like Nick Grimshaw to be into her. 

“Earth to Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry says, mouth mostly full of orange slush. “Kinda zoned out.”

“Daydreaming about your perfect man right in front of me. The disrespect, honestly.”

Harry smiles sheepishly but rolls her eyes at her friend.

“I was asking what you’re doing tomorrow. Want to come over and hang by the pool?”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Harry says, “but I actually have plans tomorrow.”

“With who?” Niall asks, not quite shocked but definitely surprised. With Nick gone, Niall probably assumed they’d be hanging out basically every day. And there was no reason not to, really. Except...

“Louis, actually.”

“Tomlinson?” 

“Yeah,” Harry replies, as nonchalantly as she can.

Niall doesn’t reply but looks around the foodcourt, dramatically shifting her head in various directions.

“What are you doing, spaz?”

“Just seeing if I can see any pigs flying around.”

Harry rolls her eyes as Niall turns back to her, laughing, clearly proud of herself.

“So funny I forgot to laugh. When’s your audition for Saturday Night Live?”

“Nah, turned ‘em down. Didn’t offer me enough money,” Niall replies with her trademark quickness. 

Harry laughs, despite herself. 

“Just messing, H. I’m just surprised you two are hanging out when Nick’s not even around.”

“Well, we did have fun that one night over at their house, even after he went to sleep. Just figured with him gone, we both have more time.” Harry shrugs and Niall seems to accept her reasoning. 

“Well just don’t go replacing me just because she can get you access to your boyfriend’s room while he’s gone so you can smell his t-shirts and cry about missing him or whatever.”

“Yeah right,” Harry laughs. “And please, I could never replace you.” She holds her pinky out for Niall to grab with her own. “Best friends forever.” 

Niall smiles wide, her blue eyes gleaming. She links pinkies with Harry and nods. “Just don’t let Louis forget it.”

Harry shakes her head at Niall, laughing softly. She knows Niall is joking, but the thought of Louis taking Niall’s place as her best friend is too wild to even consider. 

She likes Louis, she does. But it’s not the same.

~~~~~

Definitely not the same as hanging out with Niall. 

Louis and Harry end up seeing a movie too. _Labyrinth._ Harry doesn’t tell Louis she just went to the movies the day before, because Louis sounds so excited about seeing this one, and Harry doesn’t want her to think they can’t go just because Harry saw one yesterday. Plus, Harry had seen a poster for the movie at the cinema the night before and something about David Bowie had caught her eye. She’d even made an off-handed remark about how hot he looked. Which Niall of course had responded to with a laugh and a head shake. “You and guys with makeup and long hair, Harry, I swear.” Harry had brushed off Niall’s teasing with a raise of her shoulders and her eyebrow, not at all surprised. Niall’s more into jocks. She never agrees with Harry about guys who are a little more...girly, maybe?

The movie had been pretty bananas, and Bowie’s character was really intense. Harry had loved it. Louis, too. She'd been jumping around in the parking lot as they walked to their cars – they’d met up there – singing about the babe with the power, being sillier than Harry had ever seen her. It was contagious. By the time they were unlocking their cars, Harry had joined in, bouncing around and singing along as much as her laughter would let her. 

Since it’s surprisingly not too hot out for June in Chicago, they’d decided to go back to Louis’ house after to sit out in the backyard with some snacks. In her car heading over, Harry keeps laughing at the image of Louis dancing around the parking lot. So unlike how Harry had thought of Louis before they’d started spending time together away from Nick.

Harry still doesn’t think Niall has anything to worry about, but she is definitely officially friends with Louis Tomlinson.

~~~~~

“Come _onnnn,_ Louis. It’ll be fun!” Harry whines playfully, batting her eyelashes in the exaggerated way she’s practiced in her mirror. She knows it’s not convincing in the sexy way of Old Hollywood starlets or the pleading way of innocent Disney characters, but it almost always pulls a laugh from whomever she’s trying to persuade. And that’s Harry’s preferred manner of convincing, anyway. 

Louis tries to maintain her “no way” face as she rolls her eyes, but a smile escapes halfway through, and Harry knows she’s got her.

“Good!” Harry exclaims, punctuated with a single clap.

“I haven’t actually agreed, Harriett,” Louis chastises, but Harry’s spent enough time with her by now to know what the crinkles emerging at the outer corners of her eyes mean.

She’s much more obvious than she’d like to believe. At least to Harry.

Harry pays attention.

“Haven’t you?” Harry purrs back, tilting her head slightly and furrowing her brow in a purposefully bad display of confusion. “My mistake. Oh well, now I’m all excited. And I’m sure you were just about to anyway, right? Just saved us from time.” She releases the tension between her eyebrows so she can lift her left one and smile teasingly at Louis as Louis just shrugs and shakes her head in defeat.

“’Spose so, you menace,” Louis sighs, matching Harry’s soft smile. “Ok, fine, then. What exactly do you have planned for us?”

Harry had come up with the idea the night before, as she’d lain wide awake in bed, staring up at her soft peach canopy rustling gently in the steady stream of air conditioning. She’d been trying to will herself to sleep for what felt like hours, although the angry red digits on her radio alarm clock stubbornly insisted from the bedside table it had only been 27 minutes (Harry didn’t often have trouble falling asleep). But something kept nagging her from the back of her mind, hidden enough to keep her from actually pinning it down and working through it, but insistent enough to unsettle her. Sometimes when it happened she could simply win the game of chicken with her restless brain like this, staring up, open eyed for as long as she could before her eyes dried out enough to force themselves shut or she sufficiently tired herself out from the sheer concentration. 

But other times it wasn’t that simple. Those times, the only thing that could work was a tedious replay of her day, step by step, hour by hour, retracing her steps and re-watching her conversations until she landed on something she thought might have needled its way into the recesses of her mind, nestled away like a child playing hide and seek, biding its time before it couldn’t stay still any longer and the tips of its tiny feet poked out just barely from under the curtains…always just as Harry settled into bed.

Last night had been one of those nights.

So Harry had released her eyelids from their strained positions, the gauze blurring when she re-opened them after having clamped them shut in relief and a layer of tears instantly coated her eyes. She’d exhaled a heavy sigh as she shot one more glance at her clock and resolved to start at the end of her day and work backwards. It hadn’t taken her too long to land on the conversation she and Louis’d had after dinner. They’d been on the phone – they had hung out the day before and so far over the summer seemed to have an unspoken rule that they didn’t actually _see_ each other two days in a row. The rule didn’t apply to talking, though. Harry couldn’t remember the last day they hadn’t at least spoken on the phone. Sometimes more than once in a day.

That night, Louis had been complaining about Eileen mostly, stemming from the afternoon the week before when she’d found Harry and Louis lounging outside in the backyard in their swimsuits, Harry trying to get a tan and Louis begrudgingly agreeing to keep her company despite insisting she hated tanning. Harry honestly didn’t understand what had annoyed Louis about it. From her perspective, Eileen had simply popped her head out the screen door and called hello to her and Louis. Harry had noticed Louis tense up as soon as Eileen’s voice reached them, but she hadn’t said anything. Harry had called back a greeting for both of them and she and Eileen exchanged about 40 seconds of polite conversation, mostly about Nick and where he and Liam currently were, before Eileen had left them to it. 

The only thing that was even possibly noteworthy was that Eileen had smiled and told the girls she was glad they were spending time together, and that she thought Nick would be glad too. Harry hadn’t thought anything of it, just agreed he probably would be (though she mused to herself he’d probably at least jokingly pretend to be shocked and appalled before moving on to some recent anecdote). But Louis had further tensed up at that, only relaxing after Eileen had slid the screen door shut again and left them alone. 

Louis hadn’t said anything at the time about why she seemed so irritated at what Eileen had said – at her mere presence, actually – and Harry hadn’t asked. She might have, but Louis had turned her head toward Harry a few moments later, holding her hand up to block the sun from her eyes, and wrinkled her nose at Harry before smiling slightly and turning back to face the sky. Anything Harry had been holding on the tip of her tongue got swallowed down with the saliva that filled her mouth suddenly when she’d met Louis’ shaded eyes.

It hadn’t come up later that day either, and they hadn’t seen Eileen again before Harry left.

Apparently it had continued to bother Louis, though. Harry suspects it might not have – might have just been tucked away with all the other Eileen moments, both understandable and inexplicable, that irked Louis – but, and this was what Louis had been lamenting so fervently to Harry through the telephone wires, Eileen had apparently told Nick about Harry and Louis spending time together when he’d called to check in that night and then had reported back to Louis that she was right – that Nick _was_ glad they were keeping each other company while he was gone.

“It’s just – why is it _any_ of his business what I’m doing while he’s gone? What _we’re_ doing?” Louis had asked, very loudly, in response to Harry cautiously asking what had bugged her so much about it. Harry hadn’t totally understood, but she could tell Louis was sincerely upset about it, so she had replied with her most supportive hum and just let Louis continue to vent.

Eventually, when Louis was running out of steam but still sounded frustrated, Harry had asked when she wanted to hang out next, and Louis had exhaled a frustrated sigh and exclaimed she didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t at her house. When Harry'd reminded her that it was the middle of the week and Louis’ dad and stepmom probably wouldn’t be around if they hung out during the day anyway, Louis had still resisted, insisting her house was boring anyway. Harry had yet to be bored spending time with Louis, regardless of where they were, but Louis wasn’t good at accepting compliments in the best of moods, so Harry had let the thought recede back into her brain, unspoken. They’d ended the call on an unsatisfying note – to Harry, anyway – no plans to hang out, just the usual promise to talk the next day.

Replaying the conversation as she'd laid in bed, Harry had resolved to come up with something to distract Louis. Something fun for both of them. And that’s when it had occurred to her they should each pick a place to go or a thing to do and make a whole day of it. Despite the excitement she felt at the idea – and knowing exactly what her half of the day would be – Harry had fallen asleep within minutes and slept straight through the night.

That morning she’d called Louis far too early for someone who liked to sleep in as much as she knew Louis did and demanded she get over to Harry’s house within the hour so she could tell her their plan for the day. Louis had pouted sleepily but gave in when Harry reminded her she’d been wanting to get out of her house and Harry was giving her the perfect opportunity. She’d shown up an hour and a half later, still looking adorably half-asleep, and dressed like it too.

Harry smiles, holding in a giggle at how happy she is Louis actually seems interested – despite her protests – in Harry’s idea. “I only have half of something planned. I told you – we _both_ have to pick something. A _favorite_ something. Something that makes us happier than almost anything else.”

Louis looks like she might be about to roll her eyes again, but stops herself. Harry’s noticed the same look on her new friend’s face a few times this summer, and each time it creates a tiny spark of pride in Harry.

Of course, her would-be eye roll is replaced with a sigh, so it’s not a complete miracle. But Harry suspects the sigh is Louis’ attempt to stamp down the smile Harry can see trying to steal itself onto her lips. So it’s _close_ to a miracle.

Nevertheless, Louis continues to play (Harry hopes she’s only playing) at hesitance, breathily asking Harry why on earth she’s decided they need to do this.

Harry knows Louis is just giving her a hard time for the sake of teasing her. She’s pretty sure. But she can’t help answer her honestly. “Because, why would we _not_ share our favorite things with each other?” 

From the look on her face, Louis apparently didn’t expect sincerity in response to her teasing. She stills, the put-on expression of being above it all draining suddenly, replaced by one of almost awe. Harry’s eye contact doesn’t waver – and neither does Louis’ – so Harry watches it happen. It’s sudden, she knows, but it feels as though it’s happening in slow motion. Louis’ lips part almost imperceptibly and her eyes somehow twitch without breaking eye contact. She looks to Harry like she’s trying desperately to overcome a loss for words, maybe trying to decide whether to reply sincerely or cover her now obvious discomfort with sarcasm or a joke.

She looks rather beautiful in this state, Harry thinks, fondness for her brash but sometimes skittish friend overwhelming her senses. She also looks a little scared, Harry suddenly realizes.

“Plus,” Harry adds brightly – maybe too obviously trying to shift the mood, but she can’t be bothered to care in the moment – “it’s summer and we’re supposed to be having fun and I seem to remember a certain someone talking my ear off last night about how _boring_ being stuck at home is.” She flashes Louis a wide smile, adding the tiniest wink she can muster, unable to help herself.

It works.

A genuine grin fills Louis’ face. She looks beautiful like this, too, Harry muses to herself before wondering at her sudden awareness of it.

“Alright,” Louis rasps, breaking Harry’s train of thought. “You win. Let’s have a day, then.”

Harry can’t help squealing a bit in response, which seems to pull Louis’ smile even wider, to Harry’s further delight.

“I knew you’d see things my way. Do you know what you want your thing to be?” Harry asks, taking a step toward where Louis had collapsed – rather dramatically if you ask Harry – on Harry’s bed not long after arriving.

“Not sure,” Louis answers. I’ve got a few ideas, I guess. Why don’t we do your thing first and I’ll see what I’m most in the mood for after.”

Harry wants to push a little, worried Louis might end up bailing altogether on her side of the bargain, but Louis actually looks like she means it, so Harry agrees.

“So what ridiculous thing do you have planned for us?” Louis asks as she sits up, her expression softer than Harry would usually expect from her asking a question like that.

“Roller skating!” Harry practically shouts, hopping a little. “We’re going to the roller rink!”

Louis laughs, the lightness of it hitting Harry’s chest surprisingly sharply. Harry had expected a bit more of a fight. Some teasing maybe. A sigh at the very least. 

But Louis just nods once and stands up. “Sounds fun, Styles. I haven’t been in ages.”

Relief floods Harry. “I haven’t been in a while either, actually. Not since we moved here. But Niall told me about a rink close by, and I looked it up in the yellow pages and called this morning. They’re open and it’s free skate all day.”

“Meant to be, I guess,” Louis jokes. Harry thinks she’s joking. Something about her tone sounds sincere, but she’s probably just tired.

“Now,” Harry says, closing the few feet of distance left between them and grabbing Louis’ hand. Louis’ eyes dart down to their joined hands for a moment before bouncing back up to meet Harry’s, a slight question on her face. “Now,” Harry repeats, “we’ve got to get you dressed for the occasion.” And she yanks Louis toward her closet before she can protest.

~

Louis had whined her way through Harry’s insistence that she borrow some of her clothes, not sure what was wrong with the sweat suit she had on. “It’s grey!” Harry had exclaimed, as though that settled that. And in the end, it had. “My activity, my dress code,” she had informed Louis, leaving no room for negotiation. “You can change back when we do your thing later. If you want.”

Louis would want. She was pretty sure. But Harry’s insistence was almost endearing, so she figured she might as well not fight her on this. 

She’d felt silly putting Harry’s clothes on. Not because the clothes were silly – they were pretty radical, actually – but because she wasn’t Harry. Harry would look perfect in them, Louis was sure. Just as she looked in everything. But Louis just knew everyone at the rink would be able to tell someone else had dressed her up. The colors were too bright. The style too loud. 

“It’s _supposed_ to be loud, Louis!” Harry had insisted. The skating rink is fun, apparently, and so their outfits had to be fun. Harry herself had changed into something Louis had never seen her wear at school. She couldn’t even imagine her wearing it at school, where she always stood out, but not because of what she was wearing. What she wore was always perfect, but the kind of perfect that blends in without fading into the background. The kind of perfect that looks effortless and intentional at the same time.

When Louis had remarked she didn’t think she’d ever seen Harry dressed quite like this – the bright, bold purple shirt with big teal stars and matching teal skirt with its voluminous tiers quite a departure from her usual attire – Harry had replied that of course she hadn’t. These were her skating rink clothes. As though that were a thing. Skating rink clothes. Harry is ridiculous.

Louis kind of loves that about her, actually. How ridiculous she is while acting as though the very things that make her ridiculous are completely normal. 

Louis guesses they are. To Harry, anyway.

Louis, on the other hand, feels utterly out of her element in the outfit Harry deemed appropriate for their skating adventure.

Dark but somehow also bright pink leggings – at least they don’t have a cheetah print like Harry’s – with thick black leg warmers bunched around her ankles and calves, topped with a subtly zebra printed oversized sweatshirt (“Why do I have to change out of _my_ sweatshirt into a different sweatshirt?” Louis had protested to no avail) and accessorized with large geometric black and pink earrings.

Louis can’t believe she agreed to this.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” she mutters, loudly enough for Harry to hear her, even over the blaring pop music and giggling group nearby and buzzing of skaters whirring by them on the rink a few feet away.

Harry doesn’t respond. Not audibly.

Instead, she turns her head halfway toward Louis and flashes that huge, bright smile of hers. And before Louis can react to it, Harry reaches over and grabs Louis’ hand, sandwiching it between both of hers. Louis instantly warms. She hadn’t actually been feeling cold, despite the off the shoulder sweatshirt Harry had insisted she wear, but nevertheless appreciates the change in her internal temperature. She swears she had just been complaining, and expecting a reply of some kind from Harry, but she can't seem to recall what about. Harry somehow widens her smile even more, which Louis would not have thought physically possible, moves the hand that’s on top of Louis’ and grips tighter with the other, shouting, “Let’s go!” before pulling Louis onto the rink. 

Louis can skate but Harry can _skate._ She maintains her grip on Louis’ hand for two loops around the rink before turning to Louis to ask if she’s ok on her own. Louis’ instinct is to bristle – of _course_ she’s ok on her own, she’s not some spaz who can’t stay up on skates just because she doesn't have an entire wardrobe specifically for skating – but Harry’s expression is so warm and supportive. Louis reminds herself that Harry isn’t like her. Or Nick. Or anyone else Louis’ ever met, really. She’s not making fun. She wouldn’t. Not unless she knew you’d be in on it. She really just wants to make sure Louis is ok doing this thing that Harry had picked for them. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she finally responds, managing a small smile, even. 

Harry immediately drops her hand and Louis immediately regrets her answer. Before she has time to ponder why she suddenly feels cold throughout her entire body and not just the hand Harry’d been holding, Harry flashes a smile and takes off with a wink.

Louis wobbles for a second as she adjusts to balancing solely on her own, then continues skating at the pace they’d been skating together. Watching Harry zoom off, weaving around the clumps of other teenagers scattered around the rink, her long wavy hair softly floating behind her, Louis realizes she’d been going intentionally slowly for their first few rounds. She feels her cheeks heat at the thought that Harry had been trying to take it easy for Louis in case she wasn’t comfortable skating. She’s not sure whether it’s embarrassment or gratitude causing the flush, she just hopes it’s gone by the time Harry laps her. Which is sure to be soon. 

She shakes her head, trying to fling the red from her cheeks, and focuses on the back of a random person about 20 feet in front of her. She increases her own speed, enjoying the breeze starting to lick at her face. 

Just as she’s getting into a groove, she feels a whoosh of air to her left and turns her head suddenly to see a laughing Harry whiz by. Without slowing down, Harry turns back to face her and calls back, “There you go, Louis!” with a wide smile. Her cheeks have pinkened and Louis assumes she hasn’t stopped smiling since they stepped onto the rink. She looks like she’s having the time of her life, and Louis has to admit it’s infectious. She giggles after her as Harry turns her face forward again, her arms out at her sides as she continues to coast around the rink, her feet pressed together, swerving side to side. 

Feeling suddenly as though the only way to truly enjoy herself as much as Harry is to be close to her, Louis pushes forward with her right skate and barrels ahead, determined to catch up to her before she speeds up again. 

“Party All the Time” fades out just as Louis skates up beside Harry and the opening notes of “Time After Time” fill the rink. 

“Ok, everyone,” the DJ booms from his booth in the corner. “Couples skate!”

 _Oh._ A pit of disappointment announces itself in Louis’ stomach. What bad timing. “Guess we should…” Louis starts before Harry interrupts her by grabbing her hand. 

“Guess we should what?” Harry asks, her eyebrows drawn together. 

“Well, don’t we have to get off the floor for this song?”

“Why should we? As long as we skate together, we’re fine. Just don’t let go of my hand, ok?”

Ok. 

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand lightly and the pit in Louis’ stomach turns into something else. Something unfamiliar. Something lighter. 

“Ready to go a little faster?” Harry asks. 

“Ready.” 

Couples skate is actually really fun. Louis expected to feel weird skating around with Harry amongst all the real couples, but they aren’t the only couple on the rink who are just friends – there are other girls holding hands with each other too, and no one seems to care. So she just enjoys the song, especially the fact that Harry sings quietly along to it basically the whole time. Louis wants to tease her about it, but she isn’t even sure Harry’s aware she’s doing it. Plus, her soft, deep voice sounds really good mixed with Cyndi Lauper’s, so Louis just lets it be, enjoying her private concert. By the end of the song, their clasped hands have gotten a little clammy, but Louis’ still a little sad to let go. 

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because right after couples skate comes a shoot the duck contest, which Harry responds to with a squeal of delight that makes Louis wince. Harry races over to the starting line, leaving Louis to shake her head and laugh before retreating to one of the benches off the rink to watch. Harry wins, of course. And the smile she beams at Louis when she receives her prize – a small rubber ducky keychain – is possibly her brightest yet. 

They get sodas after that, Harry insisting playfully that they need to hydrate, before returning to skate for another half an hour or so – sometimes together, talking as they go, and sometimes breaking apart so Harry can go off and dazzle everyone with her speed and her spins and her backwards skating.

Louis never minds when Harry leaves her behind. She’s so fun to watch. She never passes Louis without saying something or poking her jokingly, something small to remind Louis they’re still doing this together, even when they aren’t right next to each other. And she keeps turning around to skate backwards for a few seconds when she’s gotten out in front of her, finding her and waving every time like a complete dork.

It’s just fun. 

The last thing they do before leaving the rink is the hokey pokey. Louis would gladly skip it, taking it as a sign it’s time to leave, but Harry insists. 

“Louis! We can’t miss it, it’s the best part! Come on!”

Harry’s enthusiasm wins out, of course. And Louis does catch herself enjoying it, despite how ridiculous she feels turning herself around on skates when instructed by the song to do the hokey pokey. 

Somehow, although Louis feels like she never stops wobbling the entire time, Harry is the one who falls down, right at the end. Hard, too. 

“Oh my God, H, are you ok?” Louis starts to bend over to help Harry up, but realizes immediately she’ll end up toppled onto Harry if she does, so instead she just places her hands on her knees and offers a sympathetic grimace. 

“‘M fine, Lou, don’t worry. Happens like half the time, actually.” She laughs as she makes her way back up to the standing position, Louis finally reaching out to grip her hip to help steady her. “It’s always the jump that does it.” 

“You weirdo,” Louis teases as she squeezes Harry’s hip before letting go. “You sure you're ok?”

“A little sore, but fine,” Harry says, rubbing her butt with both hands to try to soothe the spot she’d landed on. “I guess this means it’s officially time for your thing. It doesn’t involve riding horses or anything, does it?”

Louis laughs. “Nah, nothing like that. Although there _is_ a spanking machine involved. That cool?”

Harry sticks her tongue out. “Ha ha, so hilarious,” she drawls sarcastically, but Louis swears her cheeks redden. 

Probably just still recovering from the exertion of the dance and her fall. 

“No,” Louis says, “actually, I think my thing will be perfect for your poor bruised tush. Nice and relaxing, I promise.”

“Perfect,” Harry says, a glimmer in her eye. “Lead the way.”

~~~

At first, Harry had been surprised when they’d pulled up to an elementary school playground. But when Louis’d explained that it’s always empty on weekends and pointed to the large and surprisingly lush tree-dappled field right next to it, she immediately got the appeal. And it wasn’t actually surprising at all that Louis would choose a completely unoccupied place for her turn. 

What Harry could never have expected though, is how Louis immediately shouted “race you to the swings” and took off like a flash the second she’d closed the car door. 

At some point, Harry might stop being surprised when spending time with Louis. But this moment – swinging back and forth next to the most carefree version of Louis she’s seen these past several weeks, hearing her giggle every time she hits the peak of her forward swing and raises up an inch before gravity pulls her back down – this is not that moment. 

Rather than try to figure out her still relatively new friend, or predict when their friendship might stop feeling new, Harry focuses on the sensation of almost-flying. On the way the wind pulls her hair back from her face and allows her to feel the breeze fully across her cheeks as she slices forward through the air, arcing up with more grace than she can ever muster on the ground. On the way her curls rush forward all at once to envelop her face each time she’s pulled back again, no doubt tangling themselves into a nest she’ll have to spend quite a while dealing with tonight. But just as she can’t bring herself to care about why it feels so different to spend time with Louis than her other friends, she can’t bring herself to feel bothered by the growing mess of her hair. 

She’s having too much fun. 

They stay on the swings for a while, the steady silence punctuated only by occasional bursts of laughter at each other for getting carried away and letting out some form of “Whee!” on a particularly swift ascent. Eventually Louis asks if Harry’s had enough and just as Harry is reluctantly agreeing she could be convinced to stop swinging, Louis leaps off her swing from the highest point and lands several feet in front of the swingset, turning triumphantly around with a huge smile plastered across her wind-pinkened cheeks. 

“Very impressive,” Harry calls, starting to slow down. 

“Not going to try it?” Louis answers back, less teasing than encouraging, but still with a hint of challenge in her voice. And eyebrow. 

Not that it hadn’t looked fun, but Harry knows herself. Even if she lands on her feet, she surely won’t stay on them. And she’s still a little sore from her roller skating fall. “I try to keep myself to one major fall injury per day,” she jokes as she scrapes her tennis shoes against the gravel to bring herself to a shaky stop. “Next time, maybe.”

“Well, that’s fair,” Louis answers. “We can switch to something that’s safe even for you, Bambi.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry drawls, faux pouting. 

Louis giggles in response. “Oh take a chill pill. Wait here and give your legs a pep talk. I’ll be right back.” She runs back to her car and pulls a blanket and a tote bag out of her trunk before heading back in Harry’s direction. “Want to laze around for a bit?”

Harry nods enthusiastically, remembering she has a book in her purse she’s been wanting to start, figuring Louis must have something in her tote bag to keep herself busy. 

She’s right. As soon as the blanket is spread out and they’re both getting themselves settled, Louis reaches into her bag and pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “Mind if I draw?”

“Of course not.”

“Sure you won’t feel ignored or anything?”

“Not at all, I have a book with me.”

“Great,” Louis replies with a shy smile. “I come here to draw a lot.”

“Seems like a nice place for that,” Harry replies. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a nice place for me to clear my head.”

Harry smiles in response. “I wish I could draw, but my art skills peaked around 3rd grade. Eventually, even the grown ups that have to pretend to love everything you make get tired of the same crayola sun setting between rolling hills.”

Louis laughs her full raspy laugh that Harry realizes with a bit of confusion she’s starting to crave. “So, anyway,” she interrupts her own faltering thoughts, “what do you like to draw?”

“Oh, whatever. Sometimes things right in front of me, like the swing set or the trees, or a particularly interesting section of grass.” 

Harry laughs lightly, stopping short when Louis flinches, suddenly flooded with worry she’s offended Louis. “Sorry,” she rushes, “I’m not laughing at you.” 

“I know grass isn’t _actually_ interesting to people,” Louis mutters, her eyes drawn down toward her blank page.

“No no, it’s not that,” Harry says. “It’s just the thought of being able to draw blades of grass well enough that they don’t just all look exactly the same is so beyond my own ability, it feels impossible. I can’t even imagine.”

Louis lifts her gaze back to Harry slowly and the hint of a smile reappears. She shrugs. “Drawing is just something I’ve always been able to do, I guess.”

“I’m so jealous. Really. I’d love to see when you’re done.”

“Maybe,” Louis says, and it’s enough for now, so Harry nods and reaches into her purse to grab her book. 

They settle into an easy silence that’s long enough for Harry to make it through a third of her book before her eyelids begin to feel heavy. Just as she feels them begin to droop, Louis’ tentative voice breaks the silence and startles her back to alertness. 

“Finished.”

Harry turns to see Louis holding out her notepad, a shy half-smile failing to distract from her worried eyes. Harry tries to reassure her with her own smile as she reaches to take the pad. 

She doesn’t know what’s more responsible for her gasp – how talented Louis is, or that she’s looking at a drawing of herself. 

~~~~~

“Nick!”

Louis rolls her eyes dramatically and sticks her index finger into her open mouth, miming an exaggerated gag. Harry twists the mouth piece of her phone upward so Nick doesn’t hear her laugh. She picks up the pillow next to her and throws it at Louis, who manages to catch it before it hits her face. She smiles triumphantly and sticks her tongue out at Harry as she places the pillow gently on her crossed legs.

Harry scrunches her nose and sticks her tongue out too before twisting her phone back into position to get back to Nick, who’s just asked if it’s a bad time. 

“No, it’s fine, I’m just here with your sister, actually. Did you want to talk to her?”

Louis glares at Harry, eliciting a laugh and a wink from Harry, which softens her glare. A little.

“So you two are really hanging out a lot?” Nick asks. “I thought my mom was exaggerating when she told me that. Has my leaving really made you that desperate?”

“Oh shut it,” Harry says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes to try to smooth out the furrow in Louis’ brow from across the room. “We’re just finally able to have fun now that we’re rid of you.”

“I see,” Nick answers. “So just all the typical girl stuff, then? All hair braiding and pillow fights?”

“Actually,” Harry replies with a laugh, “we were just having a pillow fight.”

“Liam! Change of plans, we have to head back tonight!” Nick yells, pulling a bigger laugh out of Harry.

“Yeah, so get back to Liam and leave us to it!” Louis calls from the other side of the room, launching the pillow back at Harry, striking her right in the face and knocking the phone out of her hand. “Oh shit!” she shouts, scrambling over to Harry. “I’m so sorry, Harry!”

Harry’s laughing too hard to respond so she just shakes her head trying to communicate to Louis it’s no big deal as she hears a faint, “Hello? What’s going on over there?” coming from the receiver. She manages to subdue her laughter enough to see the phone, being offered to her by a very sheepish Louis. “It’s fine, Louis,” she whispers, taking the phone. “Really.”

“Hello? Harry? You still there?”

Harry puts the phone back against her ear. “Yeah, yes, I’m here. Sorry, babe. Pillow fight got out of hand.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Nick says. “Liam and I are busy deciding which biker bar seems like the best one to start a fight, anyway.” 

“Oh perfect,” Harry replies, “so we both have plans.” She looks at Louis when she says it and thinks she sees a smile quirk up the side of Louis’ lips as she quickly looks down.

Harry’s own lips react in kind and she completely misses what Nick says in response, distracted by wondering what Louis is thinking. Something about Louis acting shy always seems to have that effect.

“Sorry, what?” Harry asks Nick, suddenly feeling a bit shy herself.

Nick laughs. “Nothing, forget it. Just making a dumb joke.”

‘You _never_ do that!” Harry teases. 

“I know, I’m far too mature.” 

Harry rolls her eyes but can’t help but laugh.

“Listen, Harry,” Nick’s voice turns more serious, catching the rest of Harry’s attention. 

“Yeah?”

“I do want to thank you for spending so much time with Louis while I’ve been gone.”

“What?” Harry startles. “So much time? I haven’t– I mean, it’s not _that_ much time.”

“Well however much, I’m sure she appreciates it. I know it seems like she and I don’t really like each other, but I was a little worried about leaving her all summer. You know how our parents can be. And you know how she can be…”

Harry’s eyes flick to Louis, who’s sitting across the room, her legs tucked under like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. They make eye contact and Louis startles, mouthing “sorry” and gesturing toward the door, asking if she should go. Harry shakes her head, trying to assure her it’s fine. 

That she doesn’t want her to leave.

“...so anyway, H, I’m just glad she has someone to hang out with so she’s not stuck in the house arguing with our parents or just driving around being annoyed at everything. It seems like she’s actually having a nice summer.”

“Of course, Nick,” Harry says, eyes still locked on Louis’ as she smiles. “Honestly, it’s my pleasure. We _are_ having a nice summer.” 

~~~~~

“Earth to Harry! Come in, Harry!”

“Oh, sorry, Niall! Just spaced. What were you asking me?”

“I swear, Harriet, you’re even more of a space cadet than usual. What’s going on with you? We haven’t hung out in forever and I finally get you to come over and you’re on the moon or something. Did you and Nick have a fight?”

“What? No, nothing like that. And I’m not _that_ bad. I just zoned out for a second.”

“Whatever you say, Buzz.”

“Is that supposed to be a space joke? Like Buzz Aldrin?”

“If the space shoe fits…”

“Whatever you say, Niall Armstrong.”

“Oh God you are _such_ a dork!” Niall laughs, playfully shoving Harry.

Harry smiles wide, always satisfied to get that reaction from her best friend. “You love me.”

“I do.”

“Sorry I’ve been out of it.”

“Don’t sweat it, H. I’m just messing.”

“And I’m sorry we haven’t hung out more lately. I’ve just been...busy, I guess.”

“Hanging out with Louis Tomlinson, of all people.”

“Not _just_ Louis! I haven’t hung out with her _that_ much,” Harry protests weakly, knowing she’s full of it.

“Oh get real, Harriett. Summer’s half over and I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve hung out. Nick’s gone. So unless he’s managed to get one of those car phones to talk to you all day every day while he and Liam drive across the country, I assume you’re spending all that extra time with Louis. What else would you be doing?”

Harry stays quiet. She almost argues that Gemma’s home for the summer, too, but she knows Niall won’t buy it. Gemma’s got tons of friends, most of them in the city near school. As close as they are, she wouldn’t be spending all her time with her kid sister, and Niall knows that. 

And why should Harry want to lie to Niall about how much she and Louis are hanging out anyway?

It’s not like she’s been trying to hide it from Niall – they just haven’t talked about it. Harry honestly hasn’t thought about it much, how spending all this time with Louis means she and Niall have barely hung out. But now that Niall’s actually pointed it out, she has to admit it’s true, and she’s flooded with guilt. 

“I’m really sorry, Niall.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, you dweeb. I’m not mad. I just miss my best friend a little, that’s all.”

Harry smiles but she still feels badly. She reaches over to squeeze Niall’s shoulder. “You _are_ my best friend, you know. Even though you’re right, Louis and I have been hanging out a lot.”

“Better still be,” Niall responds with a wink. “She better not be trying to take my place.”

“Never,” Harry answers. “It’s not like that.”

Niall furrows her brows in confusion. “Not like what? She’s not trying to steal my Best Friend title? No doy, Harry. I was joking.”

Harry feels herself becoming flustered, realizing she’s being a total weirdo but not knowing what to say to fix it. Or how to explain what she even means. 

“I just mean...she’d never take your place as my best friend.”

Niall starts to open her mouth as if to assure Harry again she was joking, or maybe just point out what a spaz Harry is being, but Harry keeps going.

“I know you’re kidding, I’m just not explaining it right. I’m not totally sure what I’m trying to say. But I never think of Louis as being my friend like you are, I guess.”

Niall tilts her head, looking even more confused now, and Harry huffs out a frustrated sigh. _Why can’t she say what she means?_

Maybe because she doesn’t even know what she means. 

“God, I don’t know,” she continues. “Whatever. Don’t listen to me. I just mean you have nothing to worry about. I obviously have fun hanging out with her, but not more than I do hanging out with you. Or, I mean, I guess it’s _as_ fun...but, like, different, is all?”

“Ok…” Niall nods slowly, like she still has no idea what Harry is talking about but is trying to understand. Or at least to let her off the hook.

Harry sighs, feeling defeated. She doesn’t know what else to say, and is pretty sure she’ll just make it worse if she tries. “Just different,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I just really like hanging out with her. It’s easy to talk to her...but not in a boring way. It feels like we’re really different, but I don’t know, it just works.”

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Niall tries to joke that she figured Harry’s just hanging out with Louis so much because she misses Nick and Louis’ the closest she can get to a Nick replacement. 

Harry knows what Niall is trying to do, and she appreciates it, but she can’t force herself to go along. “She’s _not_ just Nick’s sister, Niall, that’s not cool.” 

“Whoa, sorry, Harry,” Niall replies, sounding taken aback, and Harry flinches. _Shit._ _Making it weird again._

“I didn’t mean anything. I know that’s not what’s going on. Only trying to lighten the mood.” 

Usually Niall can joke her way out of any heavy moment – it’s a gift, honestly, and Harry’s always been grateful for it. She can’t quite explain why it’s not working right now.

“Sorry, Ni. I know you didn’t mean anything. I don’t know why I got so defensive.”

“It’s ok, I get it.”

“Do you? Because I don’t,” Harry jokes weakly. 

“Well, no, I guess I don’t. But it’s ok.”

Harry smiles at her friend. She really is the best. 

“I think I just feel bad,” Harry starts, her words coming out slowly despite her thoughts racing, “because I feel like I _don’t_ actually miss Nick that much at all.”

Niall stays silent, just nodding along.

“You’d think spending so much time with his step-sister I’d think about him more – miss him more. And it’s not that I don’t think about him. We talk every few days and he keeps sending me postcards, which is really sweet.”

“It is,” Niall agrees. 

“But I definitely expected to miss him more. Not like I thought I’d be miserable and moping around, but just...I don’t know. It’s just different than I expected. I guess hanging out with Louis has kept me distracted.”

“Sure,” Niall says, grabbing Harry’s hand to stop her picking nervously at her cuticles. “That makes sense, it does.” 

“Like, our friendship is still kind of new, so I still get excited when I know we’re going to hang out, you know?

“What?” Niall gasps. “I’m such old news you don’t get excited to hang out with me anymore?”

Harry knows Niall’s teasing but can’t help answer her earnestly. “Of course, you’re my best friend. I love you, Niallie. I love hanging out with you. It’s just different, I don’t know. I’m still not doing a good job of explaining it.”

“You really aren’t. Terrible job, honestly.” 

Harry shoves her playfully. 

“Good thing you have such a smart best friend, then.” 

“Oh yeah,” Harry laughs. “And why’s that?” 

“Because while you clearly have no idea what you’re talking about, I am a genius with an excellent idea.” 

Harry rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop smiling. “What’s this genius idea?”

“We should _all_ hang out!”

Harry feels a pit form in her stomach but manages to keep her smile intact, because she knows there’s no rational reason not to. 

“That way I can see for myself what’s so great about your new favorite friend and spare you the embarrassment of trying to explain it ever again.” 

“Hey!” Harry laughs, forgetting about the pit in her stomach, and reaches out to snap Niall’s bra strap. 

Niall laughs in response. “No, but seriously, Harriett. We _should_ all hang out. It’s honestly kind of weird that we haven’t already, right? Unless you’re _embarrassed_ by me?” 

Niall leaps up as she’s finishing her sentence and pulls her shirt up enough to expose her stomach, puffing it out and rolling it over and over as she crosses her eyes like a complete freakazoid, and Harry devolves into giggles at her fool of a best friend.

~

Of course Harry finally agrees with Niall that they should all get together – how could she not? 

She then spends the rest of the night after leaving Niall’s house feeling kind of anxious, and she has no idea why. There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s just hanging out with friends. She’s done it hundreds of times before. Niall was right, only hanging out with Louis when it’s just the two of them is strange. When you have more than one friend it makes no sense to only do things with one of them at a time. Definitely weird that she and Louis are always alone when they hang out.

And she loves Niall. If she’s friends with Niall and she’s friends with Louis, why wouldn’t they be friends, too? What’s there to be nervous about? That Louis might like Niall more than she likes Harry? That Niall will notice something strange about their friendship? That having someone else there will ruin what she and Louis have – whatever it even is? Maybe they only work when it’s just them. After all, Louis and Harry hadn’t really become friends when Nick was around. It’s only since he’s not been around that they’ve gotten to know each other – gotten to be close. 

What if it’s the same with Niall? What if Niall thinks Louis is just like everyone at school thinks, even after she hangs out with her for real? What if she doesn’t understand at all why Harry is friends with her? 

Maybe she won’t see what Harry sees. Maybe she won’t get it. 

Harry doesn’t even get it, really.

She just knows she doesn’t want to lose it.

~~~~~

Gemma and Harry love celebrating the Fourth of July. Especially Harry. She’s obsessed with fireworks. Always has been. To her, they’re basically magic. She’s felt that way since childhood, as far back as she can remember, and the magic has never faded for her. 

Harry knows Gemma loves fireworks shows more than the fireworks themselves, because what she really loves is watching Harry watch the fireworks. It used to make Harry self-conscious, Gemma watching her. She used to wonder if she was weird to love them so much, if it meant she was a baby or something. If maybe Gemma was at least partially making fun of her. But eventually she realized she didn’t care. She even enjoys the sensation now – someone getting so much joy from seeing her own. At least when it’s Gemma, because she knows now without a doubt that there isn’t an ounce of mocking in it. Gemma just loves her sister, and it makes her happy to see Harry so happy. 

“Plus, she makes the funniest little noises the whole time. It’s so entertaining.”

“Gemma!”

Louis’ sharp laugh rings out from the back seat and although Harry resists turning around, she can picture her throwing her head back the way she does when her laughter is surprised out of her. Harry doesn’t know whether that laugh or the giggle that Louis tries and fails to cover with the back of her hand is her favorite. And she’s just embarrassed enough right now to not worry herself too much over why she might feel the need to catalogue Louis’ laughs in order of preference. 

Gemma turns to wink at Harry before focusing her eyes back on the road. “Take a chill pill, Harold. Louis will see for herself soon enough anyway.”

“Yeah, Harold,” Louis mimics, to Harry’s simultaneous dismay and amusement, “just keep quiet up there. The elders are speaking.”

“Oh, I knew we would get along, Louis.” 

Something warms inside Harry at Gemma’s approval. She hadn’t been nervous for them to meet, exactly – she’d been fairly certain they’d get along great. But inviting Louis to join them tonight was more than just them meeting. This was their thing – Harry’s and Gemma’s – ever since their parents had split up. They find a small local celebration – no Navy Pier party for them, just anywhere with hot dogs, burgers, pop, and fireworks – drape themselves in an obnoxious combination of stars and stripes, and bring their Chicago Bears stadium seat cushions so they stay comfortable all the way through the Grand Finale no matter what the set up is like. It’s one of their favorite sisterly traditions, and although they’d each invited friends to join over the years, it still felt a little sacred to Harry. 

So she’s relieved that wanting to invite Louis seems to have been the right thing to do. She hadn’t meant to, actually, but when Louis had asked Harry about her plans a few days before, Harry had gotten predictably overexcited telling Louis about the fire station celebration they’d seen advertised in the local paper, and how much she loved fireworks and missed them throughout the rest of the year but didn’t trust herself to ever buy and set them off on her own so she had to settle for once a year which she actually thinks is for the best because it makes the annual displays even more special. And when Louis had giggled and said she thought it was the fastest and most she’d ever heard Harry speak, Harry hadn’t even given it a thought before she’d blurted out, “You should come with us!”

“Seriously, Louis, you’re going to love it. She ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ like a 5 year old and it’s totally sincere. It’s the best.”

“Can’t wait,” Louis says. And it sounds to Harry like she’s gotten a little quieter. But it might just be that they’re pulling into a spot in a crowded parking lot, people talking and laughing all around. 

Harry feels a little zip in her stomach and she giggles in anticipation. 

“I just love them, alright?” she pouts. “Tell me one single thing that’s more amazing than fireworks. They’re literally _decorative explosions!”_

Gemma and Louis both laugh as they all pile out of the car, grabbing their seat cushions (Louis had been fairly sure her family had some in their garage somewhere but Harry had insisted she borrow her mom’s so they’d all match). The three of them walk toward the grassy area that’s steadily filling up with blankets and lawn chairs and plastic covered cushions with various Americana and Chicago sports themed images.

They find a spot big enough to place their cushions side by side and have a little room to stretch their legs. Harry sets her cushion between her sister’s and friend’s and plops down, announcing she’ll save their spots while they go get food and she’ll go when they get back. It only occurs to her after they’ve walked away that she hadn’t been nervous at all to suggest the two of them go off alone. Louis seems totally at ease with Gemma and the realization unlocks the tension Harry hadn’t noticed she was carrying in her shoulders.

She sighs easily and closes her eyes, leaning her head back to enjoy the warmth of the day’s final sunrays, barely reaching her face from where the sun hovers just above the horizon. 

~

By the time they’ve all finished eating – Harry’s fingers slightly sticky with melted Bomb Pop – the sun has almost fully set. Whispers of anticipation crackle around the crowd, the volume of conversation lowering along with the sun. By the time the sky darkens completely, the only sounds Harry can hear are the faint buzzing of fireflies and her own internal squeeing.

She vaguely registers Gemma leaning back to whisper to Louis, “get ready for the real show,” and Louis’ soft giggle in response. 

She loves this.

She loves her stupid brat big sister. She loves fireworks. And she loves that Louis is here too. 

As the canon shoots off the first firework, and Harry tenses with excited anticipation, she turns to Louis and says, “I’m so excited. I’m so glad you came.”

“Me too,” Louis whispers back, giving her knee a gentle squeeze.

Harry doesn’t know whether it’s Louis’ touch on her leg or the burst of red and blue that suddenly fills the sky that makes her heart start to race, but she doesn’t much care. 

She’s just happy. 

She knows the moment Gemma turns to watch her – recognizes the familiar sensation of her sister’s eyes on her – and is only aware that she’s probably making her usual awed noises because she can sense each time Gemma smiles. She used to find being watched so intently unnerving, but now she finds it calming. For a few minutes she loses herself in the serene familiarity of it all. She almost forgets Louis is next to her. 

Until she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, like an alarm. 

And she knows she’s being watched from the other side too. 

Just then her favorite kind of firework – the kind that looks like sparkling honey drizzling down an imaginary cake in the sky – explodes in front of her, and her smile fills her face, because she feels the exact same firework inside her chest.

~~~

“So Louis seems great.”

“Yeah, she’s nice, right?”

“And funny, too. A real smart-ass, that one, which you know I love.”

Harry huffs a small laugh. “I do.”

“I have to admit, sis, I didn’t get it when you started hanging out with her so much this summer, but I really like her. I’m glad you invited her tonight. It was fun having her with us.”

As she feels her cheeks heat, Harry is incredibly grateful to be in the car, facing forward in the dark, no chance Gemma will notice the blush. “It _was_ fun.”

“And I gotta say, I never thought we’d find _anyone_ who’d be as entertained by what a dweeb you are about fireworks as I am.” Gemma turns toward Harry briefly, shooting her a playful smile. “I doubt she even saw half the fireworks.”

“Oh come on,” Harry says. “You’re exaggerating.” 

“Maybe slightly. You _were_ particularly entranced tonight. It was a pretty great show.”

“Right?!” Harry practically squeals. “I love when a little neighborhood show surprises you like that!”

“I meant your _face,_ you dork.”

Harry squawks indignantly and reaches over the gear shift to smack her sister’s arm.

“Hey, watch it. No abusing the driver when in motion. Are they not teaching that bit in driver’s ed anymore? Need I remind you that your life is in my hands, young one?”

Harry rolls her eyes but laughs despite herself. “So sorry, oh wise elder.”

Gemma tsks loudly. “If you're this much of a brat with Louis, I don’t know how she stands you, quite frankly.”

At the mention of Louis, Harry’s face heats up again. 

Or maybe it’s just the leftover excitement of the fireworks show. Or the sisterly banter. Or the pitiful excuse for an air conditioner in Gemma’s old beater on this cooler than usual but still plenty hot summer night. 

Maybe it’s nothing to do with Louis at all, the redness Harry can feel creeping across her cheeks and wrapping around her neck. 

Maybe her racing heart isn’t either. 

~~~~~

Harry can’t quite explain why she didn’t invite Louis to hang out at her house the next day, when Louis’d asked. Normally she’d have suggested Louis come over as soon as she called, without a second thought.

They’d spent tons of time lately in her room, talking and joking for hours. Flipping through magazines with various levels of interest – taking the quizzes when they were feeling silly, reading sex tips aloud when they were feeling feisty, trying to see which of them would blush and giggle first. Listening to music, sometimes quietly and sometimes with exclamations about the first time they’d seen this video on MTV or how much that song changed the entire way they think about music. 

Maybe it’s because of how long it had taken Harry’s heartbeat to return completely to its normal pace the night before, enough so she could try to sleep.

Whatever the reason, she didn’t think she could handle Louis being in her bedroom today. Sitting on her bed. Lounging casually like she belonged there. 

Instead, they’d gone back to Louis’ park, finding a patch of shade that still held some of the late morning’s cooler temperature. Harry sits up against the tree, Louis lying on her back a few feet away, her forearm resting across her eyes to protect them from the dappled light growing brighter by the minute along the shade’s edge. 

“Thanks for letting me come last night. I had a really nice time, with you and Gemma.”

“I’m glad,” Harry replies. “Gemma officially loves you.”

“Really?” The surprise in Louis’ voice breaks Harry’s heart a bit. 

“Of course. Smart asses always love their kind.”

“Right, sure, should have expected that,” Louis deadpans. “Don’t know why I was ever nervous to meet her.”

“You were nervous to meet her?” Harry asks without thinking, dismissing Louis’ joke. 

If it even was a joke. 

To Harry’s slight surprise, Louis answers sincerely. 

“I was a little, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs.

“I knew I made too big of a deal of the whole sisters July 4th tradition thing. Sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean to make you anxious.”

“No, it wasn’t that, I promise. You were fine. I just don’t meet people’s family all that often, I guess. And you and Gemma are so close. You talk about her like she’s your favorite person in the world. Felt like meeting the parents or something.”

Harry laughs. “I’m telling her you said that! I can hear her shrill ‘I’m only four years older than you!’ now.”

Louis giggles and Harry leans her head back against the tree, a little too pleased with herself at having coaxed her favorite sound out of Louis.

“Well you passed with flying colors, like I said,” Harry says after a few seconds. “You’re officially in.”

She tilts her head forward enough to see Louis move her arm off her face and bring both hands behind her head to cradle it.

“It was a nice reminder, actually,” Louis says finally.

“Reminder?”

“That I actually like being around people.”

“Oh so all this time you’ve just been tolerating me?”

“Absolutely,” Louis deadpans. “And barely.”

Harry huffs an exaggerated sigh and leans forward, pulling her knees up toward her chest to lean against them.

“No, but really. It’s like I’ve spent so much time the past few years being annoyed with people that I’d forgotten how much I actually like meeting cool new people. How great it is to click with someone right away. I’d been getting a little anxious thinking about what it’ll be like going away to college and not knowing anyone. But it might not be so bad, after all.”

“I think it’s going to be great, Lou. I think you’re going to love it. Plus now you know Gemma. She can introduce you to people.”

“True. That’s a relief, too. Just in case.”

“But I bet you won’t need her to, honestly.”

Louis doesn’t move her eyes from the branch she’s studying, but she smiles. 

“You’ll have a whole posse of artist friends fighting over who gets to invite you home for Thanksgiving, just watch.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, there, Harriet.” 

“Maybe,” Harry laughs lightly. “But really, Louise. They say you find your people in college.”

“Mmm.”

“And now that you’ve remembered you actually _like_ people, you should be all set.” 

“Lucky timing, then.”

 _Very lucky,_ Harry thinks, and doesn’t mean just for Louis.

“Uh, so, anyway,” she sputters slowly, willing herself to be normal, “speaking of people.”

“Well this sounds specific,” Louis replies, lifting her head up slightly to make eye contact with Harry, her brows furrowed slightly in amusement. Harry thinks she never looks so pleased as when Harry feels flustered.

“Um, yeah, well, Niall and I were talking...”

“The bottle blonde, herself!”

Harry ignores the jab and continues, “and she was saying the three of us should all hang out.”

The smirk slides off Louis’ face and Harry immediately worries she’s making Louis anxious again. She _just_ said she’d been nervous to meet her sister and now Harry’s springing another person on her. Not just another person. Her best friend. Her best friend who’s a popular, outgoing cheerleader. Not exactly someone Louis would normally hang out with. 

“Oh,” Louis says softly, her voice cracking a bit. “Oh, I mean, yeah. Sure.”

“It’s just,” Harry hurries to add, “she’s my best friend, and you and I have become good friends” – did Harry imagine a pained look flash across Louis' face at that? – “or, just, I mean, we’ve been hanging out so much. Just seems like it would be fun. If you want?”

“Yeah yeah, of course, yeah.”

“I know you might not think so, but I know you two will get along.” Harry isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince more, but suddenly she’s very worried Louis won’t agree to this. How will she explain it to Niall if Louis refuses?

Luckily, Louis’ smile returns to ease Harry’s doubts before they have a chance to build. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but Louis insists she can’t wait.

_This will be fun. It’ll be good._

_It’ll be fine._

~~~~~

_This is awful._

Harry has no idea why things are going so wrong. 

Niall was so excited. Harry was excited. Louis even seemed like she was looking forward to it. 

Ok, well, she didn’t seem like she was looking _that_ forward to it, but Harry just figured she wasn’t a huge water park fan. 

And she clearly isn’t. 

She’s kept her t-shirt on all afternoon. Even on the few slides Harry’s convinced her to come on. 

But lots of girls their age are wearing t-shirts over their bathing suits. Harry’s always thought that looks so uncomfortable, but she understands it. 

And she can’t say she hates the way it clings to-

_Harry, stop._

_Focus._

She can’t understand what’s happening today. Can’t figure out what Louis’ problem is. 

Harry figured she might be reserved, that she’d probably take a while to warm up to Niall. She was even ready for Louis to stay mostly quiet the whole day if she were really nervous. Niall has a big personality. And while her outgoing nature is usually the kind that puts people at ease, Harry’s gotten to know Louis enough over the past few months to know she might be an exception to that. 

But Harry didn’t think Louis would actually _dislike_ Niall. Nobody dislikes Niall. 

She didn’t think Louis would be so aloof. So resistant to every single effort Niall made. And Niall’s really been making an effort. 

She didn’t think Louis would be such a...bitch. 

This isn’t the Louis Harry knows. 

The Louis Harry is starting to love. _To hang out with, I mean. Loves to hang out with._

All day she’s been acting like she used to when Harry first met her. 

Before that, actually. Harry doesn’t remember a time since they’d actually met, once Nick had finally introduced them at his house, that Louis had behaved like this toward her. Or even around her. 

This is more like the way people used to describe her to Harry before they’d met. After Harry and Nick had started dating and people warned Harry about his sister. That she didn’t like anyone. That Harry was crazy if she thought she and Nick’s sister would get along, let alone have a chance at being friends. 

But they’d all been wrong. 

Harry knows Louis. She isn’t the way people said she was. Not even close.

Today, though. She’s been more than quiet. She’s been straight up rude, rolling her eyes and sighing and making snide comments every time Niall suggests something for them to do. Even sometimes when Harry tries. But mostly to poor Niall. 

This girl, today, this isn’t Harry’s Louis. 

This is the Louis of other people’s perception. People who don’t know her. People she doesn’t let know her.

Harry can’t understand why she agreed to come at all if she was just going to act like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

At this point, Harry would rather be anywhere else. 

“Hey, I’m going to run and get some pops. You two want?”

“That’d be great, Niall. Thanks,” Harry replies, shooting Niall a grateful smile and hoping against all odds she loves this place enough to somehow not have noticed how unfriendly Louis’ being. The sheer joy that fills Niall’s face every time she so much as thinks the name Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's Wonderful Water Slides almost allows Harry to convince herself for a second it might be possible. But the sympathetic half-smile Niall offers back to Harry before she turns to walk toward the concession stand brings her back to reality. 

As soon as Niall’s turned around, Harry snaps her head toward Louis demanding, “What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Louis?”

“What?” Louis has the audacity to ask, as if she doesn’t know exactly what Harry’s talking about. Her bored expression sends a spike of anger through Harry.

“You are being _such_ an asshole, Louis. What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” Louis lobs, lifting her chin defiantly. 

“Like you’re completely miserable. Like you were forced to come here. Like you’re trying really hard to make Niall and me miserable too. Especially Niall.”

“Oh please, like Niall’s ever been anything less than blissful for a minute of her life.”

“Absolutely not, Louis. Niall has been nothing but nice to you. She’s been trying so hard. Despite you treating her like dirt all day. Don’t you dare act like she’s the problem here.”

Louis scoffs, but the harshness in her expression lessons, and for a second Harry thinks she glimpses a hint of guilt.

Harry takes a slow, deep breath. She hates arguing so much. It almost always makes her cry, and she hates that. It makes her feel weak when it seems like her anger should make her feel strong. And the frustration of that just makes her more upset. 

She just doesn’t have a lot of practice fighting with people. 

And she definitely wasn’t expecting to fight with anyone today. Least of all Louis.

She breathes in another shaky breath, insisting to herself that she remain calm. 

“I just...I don’t understand, Louis,” she says, the anger drained from her voice. “You said you wanted to come today. You said you wanted to meet my best friend. I thought today would be fun.”

Louis takes a very small step toward Harry and Harry almost thinks she might apologize. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is, Harry. I just don’t love water parks, ok. I didn’t realize I had to love all the stuff you did for us to be friends.”

“Come on, Lou. That’s bull, and you know it. Look, I’m sorry if this place isn’t fun for you. If you had said something before, we could have picked something else to do.”

“Like it would have mattered what we did.”

“What does that mean?”

“It still would have been me tagging along with you and your best friend. With your real friend.”

“Louis, that’s not–”

“You two would have more fun without me anyway. There’s no reason for me to be here. It’s obvious you and Niall have more in common. You have more inside jokes. You literally never stop talking and giggling with each other. Half the time I can’t even understand what you’re saying, it’s like your laughs get super-sonic.”

“Louis I’m sorry if we made you feel left out. We just haven’t spent that much time together lately.”

“It’s fine, Harry, it’s just...we’re not friends like you two are. It’s fine.”

“Maybe we’re not.”

Harry regrets it the second it leaves her mouth, but even the way Louis’ face falls doesn’t stop her from continuing. 

“If we can only hang out when it’s just the two of us, maybe we’re not really friends. If you’re going to turn into a completely different person when other people are around, I don’t know if I _want_ to be.”

At that, Louis’ face hardens again. 

“Guess it’s good Nick will be home soon, then. You won’t need me to keep you company, anymore.”

Harry’s chest tightens. “Louis, that’s not–”

“Forget it, Harry. I’m leaving for school in a few weeks anyway. Whatever this has been, pretending we’re friends or whatever. Might as well stop now.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing she knows to say.

By the time Niall gets back with their drinks, Louis’ long gone.

~~~

“I don’t know how you deal with all the chlorine at that park, Harry, your eyes are practically bloodshot.”

“Gem–” Harry barely gets out before her voice breaks. She drops her bag at the door to her sister’s room and rushes over to her bed, sitting next to her with a thud.

Gemma immediately throws her arms around her and Harry buries her face in the soft space between her sister’s neck and shoulder. After a few moments, Gemma moves one of her hands to softly run her fingers through Harry’s hair, maintaining a firm grip with her other arm. 

“What happened, Squirt? What’s wrong? Did you get hurt at the park? I always thought those slides were death traps.” 

Harry shakes her head and sniffles, leaving her face safely hidden in the crook of Gemma’s neck. 

“No, I’m fine. It’s just...” She doesn’t finish her sentence. 

Gemma stills her hand and untwines her fingers from Harry’s curls so she can gently guide Harry’s head away from its hiding place where she can see it.

“Harry, love, you look so sad.”

Harry nods pitifully. She is.

“What happened?”

“Me and Louis had a fight.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what happened, Gem. It was supposed to be a fun day. We were finally all hanging out together – Louis, Niall, and me, and–”

“For the first time?”

“Yeah, and I figured Louis might be a little shy or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Gemma tucks a tangle of curls behind Harry’s ear.

“She was so rude to Niall, Gem. It was so awkward and awful. And when I confronted her about it, we got in a big fight and she said we weren’t really friends and then she just left.”

“She said you weren’t friends?”

“Not exactly like that, but yeah.”

“Well that’s bullshit, Harry. You know she didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t see her face, Gemma. She meant it.”

“Harry,” Gemma says softly, lifting Harry’s chin slightly so she can look her directly in her eyes. “I know it must have been really awful to hear her say that. I know she’s special to you.”

Harry tries to break eye contact, but Gemma doesn’t let her off that easy.

“Hey, look at me, kiddo. I know. But trust me, I’ve been around you two. I know Louis cares about you.”

“Why would she say that, then? She said we shouldn’t see each other again, since she’s leaving for school soon anyway." 

“I’m sorry, Harry. That must have been terrible to hear.”

“And why would she act like that all day? Why would she be so rude to my best friend? I don’t understand.”

“I know, Harry. And I don’t know exactly. But I bet something else is going on with her. I don’t think it has anything to do with Louis not wanting to be around you.”

“I don’t know, Gem.” Harry sighs heavily, tears pricking at her eyes. 

Gemma pulls her close again, letting Harry rest her head back on her shoulder. 

“Well that’s what you have your wiser older sister for, penguin. I know you two will make up. You’ll be back to being friends in no time.”

~~~~~

_Shit._

_Shit shit shit._

Louis slams her bedroom door shut and bangs the back of her head against it a few times, the resulting surge of pain a fraction of what she deserves.

_What the fuck was that, Louis? What are you doing?_

_“Pretending to be friends?” Why the fuck would you say that to her?_

_Why the fuck would you be such a complete asshole to her best friend?_

_What were you trying to prove? That you’re exactly the dickhead everyone thinks you are?_

_That you’re too cool to hang out with a cheerleader?_

_Goddamn cheerleaders._

_Harry’s a cheerleader, though. And you like her._

_You like her._

_A lot._

_Shit._

Louis knows why she was such a bitch to Niall, if she’s honest. 

Perfect, gorgeous Niall. Harry’s best friend Niall. 

She knows why. 

_You’re jealous, you dickhead._

_Jealous of Harry’s beautiful blonde best friend. Who everyone loves. Unlike you._

_Jealous of anyone Harry might like more than you._

_Because you like her._

_Fuck._

Louis knows because she’s been thinking about it a lot lately. Hasn’t been able to think about much else, really. 

She can’t even begin to count the number of hours she’s spent this summer trying to figure out her feelings for Harry. Can’t even count the number of hours she’s spent just trying to figure out what it means that she spends so much time trying to figure out her feelings for Harry.

It’s been a while since she’s had a close girl friend, but she remembers it’s never felt like this. This is different. And she knows why. She finally figured it out.

_You like Harry._

Like _like her._

_Damn it._

In her bewildered attempts to understand what her deal was, Louis had resorted a few weeks ago to reading the diaries she’d had when she was younger. She rarely wrote in them – a few times a year at most – so there weren’t many entries to go through. It had been a long time since she’d opened any. She had cringed so much the last time she hadn’t been eager to revisit them.

Basically every entry fell into one of two categories: boys she had crushes on and girls she hated. And they were equally embarrassing. The boy entries because they were so gushy, so unlike her. The girl entries because they were so mean. 

This time reading had been different though. Still embarrassing, but enlightening, too. Because as she read, she made herself think about each person she’d written about. Some of the boys she couldn’t really remember, and those she could, she remembered as being cute enough – the boys every girl had crushes on at one time or another. But she didn’t remember much else about them. Nothing about their personalities or how she even knew them. Nothing but hazy images that felt more like they’d come from an old yearbook than her actual memory. 

The girls she wrote about hating, though. Louis remembered every single one of them. 

She remembered what classes they’d taken together. Remembered specific interactions – some friendly, some not. The images were clearer. And they conjured real, raw emotion, even now. Not the hatred Louis had written into her diary entries, though, but hurt, confusion, rejection. Longing. Loneliness. 

Fear.

Reading the words angrily written by her younger self and seeing them in this new light had snapped everything she’d been feeling about Harry into sharp focus. 

Because her feelings for Harry were the same as those that had so confused and terrified her younger self. The same feelings those girls she’d written about had never seemed to feel in return about her, so she’d twisted them up and convinced herself what she felt for them was anything but positive. Because she didn’t understand, back then. 

She doesn’t have that excuse anymore. 

Now she understands. 

She understands why she wants to be the only friend Harry has inside jokes with. Why she wants to be the only friend Harry giggles with. The only friend whose hand Harry grips when she’s excited or emphatic or trying to be supportive. She wants to be the friend Harry wants to hang out with most. 

No. 

Not a friend. 

She doesn't want to be Harry’s friend. 

She wants something else. 

She wants to be Harry’s…

_Just...Harry’s._

And she wants Harry to be hers. 

Louis doesn’t know what that means exactly. Doesn’t know if it _can_ mean something, even. 

How can it? 

How could someone like Harry be hers?

_She can’t, Louis._

_She would never._

_She’s not yours, Louis. She won’t ever be yours._

_She doesn’t like you like that._

_Because she’s not_ like _you, Louis._

_Not in that way. Not in any way._

_She’s light and funny and easy and happy._

_She’s a cheerleader. She’s popular._

_Everyone loves her._

_Why should she like you when she’s got everyone to choose from?_

_When she’s already chosen Nick, Louis._

_Or did you forget that?_

_That she’s your brother’s girlfriend for God’s sake._

_Your! Brother’s! Girlfriend!_

_She’s with Nick._

_She’s not like you._

_She loves Nick._

_And that’s that._

~~~~~

Breaking up with Nick was easier than Harry had expected. 

She hadn’t expected a big teary goodbye, not after the way she’d been feeling all summer. Plus, Nick just wasn’t like that. 

But she’d been nervous going to his house the night he and Liam got back from their road trip. She wasn’t sure how to act, seeing him for the first time in months – and excited to see him, if she’s honest – but knowing from the start it’d be the last time she’d greet him as his girlfriend. Because she knew they were done. 

From the first minute it had been clear something was off, and not just on her side. 

Nick looked great. His smile was huge, and he seemed genuinely happy to see Harry. He hugged her in the way she’d come to love during their relationship: warm and firm and with exactly enough pressure to feel enveloped but not suffocated. And they’d shared a sweet, if brief, kiss. 

It wasn’t the passionate reunion of two people still in love. Two people who love each other, who had been in love, maybe. But two people who’d already each decided that part of their relationship was behind them. 

But neither said it right away. 

Nick told Harry details of his trip that hadn’t made it into postcards or his brief calls from hotel rooms. Harry told Nick about hanging out with Gemma and Niall and Louis all summer, making it seem like the time was more evenly split among them than it really was. And even knowing only a fraction of the time Harry and Louis had spent with each other, Nick still thanked Harry again for keeping Louis company. 

As if Harry had been doing Nick a favor. 

As if keeping Louis company hadn’t been the highlight of her summer. 

Until their fight the other day. 

Harry didn’t tell Nick about the fight. She’d just smiled and told Nick no thanks were necessary. Not at all. She’d just told him how much fun she and Louis’d had. And defended Louis when Nick said something about Louis seeming like her usual grumpy self today when he’d gotten home. 

Nick hadn’t noticed. 

He was distracted. 

Distracted by the thing he’d been working on how to bring up to Harry. The things he’d been thinking about them while he and Liam explored the country and talked about life and the future and what they most wanted. What made sense and what didn’t. About the fact that he’s leaving for college in a few weeks, and all the possibilities that come with it. About how much he hates how cheesy this all sounds. About how maybe proposing – however casually – at the end of their last day off had been pretty out there after all. 

About how maybe they should just see how things go. 

And the way he’d looked down while he said all that, like he was bracing for Harry’s disappointment and couldn’t bear to be the reason for it, flooded Harry with such warm feelings for this boy she’s loved but is ready to move on from. So she had closed the distance between them, grabbed his hand, and whispered in his ear that it’s ok. That she was relieved, even. That everything he’d said makes sense. 

That she loves him and she’s so happy they’re figuring this out now instead of two months from now when they’ve both been stressed and miserable trying to figure out how to still be together while they’re apart. 

And he’d hugged her again. That Nick Grimshaw hug that makes you feel safe and important and special, just like everything he does. 

She’s going to miss him. She knows that. 

But as Harry calls goodbye to him a final time, with a soft smile and sweet wave, before closing his door and heading for the stairs, she knows something else, too. 

She feels lighter than she has all summer. 

It’s as if she’s gliding down the stairs, nothing between her and a new chapter of her life. 

“Harry, hey!” The extra rasp Louis’ voice takes on when she’s surprised or nervous goes straight to Harry’s chest. She freezes in place and looks up from where she’d been watching her feet as she always does when she’s walking down stairs. Even though she’d known it would be Louis standing there, she still sucks in a sharp breath at seeing her just a few feet away. She’s standing near the bottom of the stairs, having just walked through the doorway from the living room into the entryway. 

She looks even more petite than usual, mostly because Harry’s still standing a few steps above her, adding quite a bit to their height difference. But it’s also because Louis’ shoulders are hunched, her arms twisted around each other, her hands clasped together, pressed into her chest. She’s wearing the same light blue sweatshirt she’d pulled on to walk Harry out the first night they’d hung out in Louis’ room, months before. 

She looks small, and impossibly soft, and Harry fights the urge to run down the last few steps to pull her into a hug and tell her how much she hates that they argued and haven’t spoken. That she’s missed her terribly the past few days, and has been miserable over the thought that Louis might leave for school with them still not talking. Her fingers twitch with the need to close the distance between them and prove to herself and to Louis that they’re ok. That whatever’s between them is still there, and won’t disappear when Louis leaves her for college. 

Instead, she concentrates on walking calmly down the rest of the staircase, looking back down toward her feet until she’s safely on the floor, a few feet from Louis. Only then does she finally manage a response. “Hi.”

“What are y- oh,” Louis says, the hint of a smile that had started when Harry approached receding. “Nick, right. Nick’s back. You’re here for Nick.” The hurt in Louis’ voice makes Harry’s gut twist. 

“I was, yeah,” she concedes, wrapping her arms around her stomach and nodding softly. She casts her eyes down for a moment before forcing herself to meet Louis’. “Actually–” she starts to explain before Louis interrupts her.

“Harry, you don’t have to explain. He’s your boyfriend. He’s been gone all summer. Of course you came to see him.”

“Louis, lis–” 

Louis unclasps her hands and holds one up. “Harry, it’s fine. It’s not like I thought–” 

“We broke up!” Harry blurts out, louder than she’d intended. She spins her head around to glance up the stairs, worried Nick might have heard her and will come out of his room to see what’s going on. He doesn’t. 

“Wha– What do you mean?”

“Me and Nick,” Harry says, much softer this time. “We just broke up.” 

Louis moves toward Harry but stops herself after a single step, her expression unreadable. “Are you ok?”

Harry pauses for just a second before answering with a certainty that surprises her. “I am.” She smiles quickly at Louis before lowering her gaze to her hands, now clasped at her waist. 

“Are you sure?” Louis takes another cautious step toward her, ducking her head slightly, trying to get a better look at Harry’s face. “Hey,” she continues, “if you are, I need to hear it from her.” She reaches over to poke Harry softly where her dimple lives, trying to coax it out. 

The intimate gesture startles a laugh out of Harry and she lifts her gaze to meet Louis’. 

“There she is,” Louis says, mirroring Harry’s smile. 

“So, um, Nick said you’re leaving in a few days? I thought we– you, I mean. I thought you had another two weeks.” Harry tries to keep her tone even, but isn’t at all confident she’s pulling it off. 

“Oh, yeah,” Louis answers quietly. “I decided to head up early when...um, I mean, I found out I could get into my dorm earlier than I thought, so I just figured, you know…”

“Yeah, yeah, that makes sense,” Harry responds, nodding. “Be nice to get settled before things get all busy with classes and everything.”

“Right,” Louis says. “Exactly.”

“So I guess you’ll be pretty busy packing and spending time with your family before you go.”

Louis frowns. “Yeah, I guess so. Honestly, I haven’t really thought much about packing. I don’t really know where to start.”

“I could help,” Harry offers. “If you want.”

“Oh that’s really nice of you, but, um, you know. It’s not like I have to take furniture or anything. Just gotta throw a bunch of clothes from drawers into bags and throw the bags into my car, right?”

“Right, yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Harry replies, disappointed but not wanting to push. 

“Thanks, though,” Louis reaches out to nudge Harry’s shoulder lightly. “Really. But, I got it.”

Right. Louis’ got it. She doesn’t need anyone. Doesn’t need Harry. Of course.

“Ok, well, I better go, I guess. Should get home.”

“Oh, right, ok.” Louis wraps her arms back around herself, tighter than before. “Well, I’m glad I got to see you before I left.”

“Me too, Lou.” Harry’s voice barely rises above a whisper, and dips even lower as she adds, “I’m going to miss you.”

Louis’ arms drop suddenly to her sides and she snaps her head up to look at Harry, her eyes glistening. 

_Oh God. That was too much. I shouldn’t have said that._

Harry’s racking her brain, trying to figure out how to backtrack without sounding like a total spaz, when all of a sudden Louis’ right there, inches away. Harry doesn’t have time to say anything before Louis throws her arms around her and squeezes tightly.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” she whispers into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut and she grips Louis around the waist, holding her close. Louis’ hair tickles the side of her face, but she doesn’t dare move. She just focuses on the soft warmth of Louis’ sweatshirt. The comforting pressure of her slender arms wrapped around her, her delicate fingers pressing into her back, a few of her nails digging in, communicating a degree of need. Desperation, even. At least that’s how it feels to Harry. Like Louis doesn’t want to let go. 

Harry doesn’t either. 

But she knows eventually they’ll have to. Harry will go home, and Louis will go upstairs. And Harry will be alone with her thoughts. And just like they have been so often for the past three months, and constantly for the past few days, those thoughts will be consumed by Louis. 

Louis who feels so comfortable wrapped around her right now, vulnerable and soft and so close. And who’s not pulling away. 

And so Harry tries to stop her thoughts and just enjoy holding Louis and being held by her. Because she’s been so worried the past few days that she’d lost this. Lost Louis as her friend. Or whatever they are or might be. So worried their fight would be the last time they spoke. So worried she’d never have the time to figure out how she actually feels about her. That she might not ever get to feel it again. But with every second that Louis’ arms stay wrapped around her, her head tucked into Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s worries recede further into the back of her mind. 

Her reprieve is short-lived, though, shattered by the reminder that, in a few days, Louis will load herself and her things into her car and drive the forty minutes into the city to her new life. And Harry will stay back here in her old one. Harry’s back stiffens at the thought, and Louis reacts by pulling away. 

_No. Not yet. Please not yet._

But it’s done. Louis sniffs and looks away as she steps back from Harry. Harry has no idea how long they were hugging, but it wasn’t long enough. 

“So,” Louis says, finally. “Guess I better get to packing.”

“Oh right, yeah,” Harry replies. “I should let you get to it.” 

“Plus, we’ve gotta get you out of here before Nick comes out of his room and you get charmed into getting back together with him.” Louis’ tone is joking, but her expression is serious. Almost worried, like she thinks that’s actually possible. 

Harry smiles and shakes her head. “Nah,” she says, “he’s had his chance.” She winks at Louis and the smile it elicits makes Harry’s heart beat faster. 

“But, I _should_ go. For _his_ sake. Don’t need to rub it in his face.” 

Louis laughs and covers her mouth with her fist and it does absolutely nothing to slow Harry’s heart rate back down. 

“So, um,” Harry starts, resisting the urge to grab Louis’ hand away from her face to pull her back into another hug, “you think you’ll be back home some weekends? I mean, once you settle in?”

“Oh,” Louis’ face falls and she bites nervously at her finger. “Actually, I’ve been thinking it might be better for me to really just be there for real, you know? Like, try not to come home except for breaks?”

“Oh.”

“I just, maybe it’s silly, going to school so close and pretending like I’ve actually gone away to college–”

“No, it’s not,” Harry insists. 

“I just feel like it’s a chance to really start fresh.”

“I get it,” Harry assures her. And she does.

It might not be the answer she wanted, but she knows it’s the answer that’s right for Louis. 

And Harry wants that for her. More than she wants her here. She wants her to be happy. 

“I’ll see you when you _do_ come home, though, right?”

“Of course!” Louis looks almost panicked, like she can’t believe Harry might have doubted it. 

“Ok,” Harry exhales through a slight smile. “Good.”

Louis nods, “yeah, it’ll be good.” She bites her bottom lip and continues nodding and Harry can’t tell which of them she’s trying to convince. 

Harry pulls Louis into her before she can think too much about it. She gives her a quick squeeze and releases her, worried she’ll never let go otherwise. 

“Good luck, Louis. I know it’s going to be great. You’ll be great.”

Louis looks like she might cry, and Harry can’t have that. 

She reaches over and mimes snapping suspenders that Louis isn’t wearing, pulling a surprised laugh from Louis, who retaliates by shoving Harry’s shoulder. 

“Dork,” she laughs. 

“Well we can’t all be tough cool kids,” Harry responds. 

“Guess not.” Louis winks and Harry’s nerves settle. 

“Call me when you get settled? Tell me all about it?” 

“If you’re lucky.” 

Harry rolls her eyes but she laughs. “If I’m lucky, ok.”

She walks toward the door and spins back toward Louis halfway there, walking backwards for the final few steps. 

“See ya, Lou.” 

“Bye, Harry.” 

Harry turns and lets herself out the front door. As she walks to the car, she can’t help glance back at the house she’s spent so much time at since moving here. It’s going to be really strange not coming over anymore. 

She sighs as she gets into her car, giving the place a final look through the window as she gets ready to drive off. 

Maybe she’ll be back before too long, though. Over Christmas break. 

When Louis’ back. 

If she’s lucky. 


	3. Autumn

_“Enchantment and fulfillment were on the gold and garnet horizon – autumn's breath, a dormant dream reawakened, a yearning nearly satiated, a tender thank you with a brush of the lips, and a connection as fingers touch and go hand in hand.”_

_― Donna Lynn Hope_

*******

Harry doesn’t want to wait ‘til Christmas. 

The remaining weeks of summer, with Louis gone, had simultaneously dragged and flown by. Harry had spent as much time with her sister as she could before Gemma headed back up to school for the start of the semester. When she’d left, Harry felt, still often feels, a pang of jealousy at her proximity to Louis, even though she doubted they’d actually see each other much, if at all.

Harry and Niall had spent most of their remaining free time together, sometimes with other friends joining in. Those last weeks before school had restarted had been exactly what the entire summer would have been if Louis hadn’t been there. 

And Harry’d had fun those last few weeks, she had. 

But she’d also thought often how glad she was it wasn’t what her entire summer had been like. 

She’s glad Louis had been there for most of it. 

And she wishes she were still here. 

~~~

A month into her senior year, Harry’s mostly stopped missing Louis. Or she’s at least not _only_ missing Louis. 

With Louis gone, Harry'd had more time to focus on a worry she’d long had but mostly been able to ignore: about what her place would be at school without Nick. She’d never been _just_ Nick Grimshaw’s girlfriend – she’d never have stayed with him if she felt like people saw her as only that – but she _had_ been known as his girlfriend since pretty much the second she moved to town. Or at least for the length of most people’s memory of her. And even if it wasn’t everything, being Nick’s girlfriend was a big part of how people saw her. She knew that. 

So she’d worried what it would be like in the halls at school without him. Even before they’d broken up, Harry had wondered how many conversations would revolve around Nick. How he was doing. _What_ he was doing. Bored, inquiring high school minds would want to know.

And once they had broken up – once she wasn’t _even_ Nick Grimshaw’s girlfriend, Harry had worried how many conversations she might have had with people at least curious about him wouldn’t happen at all. How many people wouldn’t even bother talking to her now that she wasn't a link to him?

Her worries had been somewhat well-founded. A frustrating number of conversations in the first few weeks _had_ revolved around Nick. First were the conversations with people who somehow hadn’t heard through the remarkably speedy teenage grapevine that they’d broken up. Those were the worst, filled with sympathy Harry didn’t need and surprise at how not-heartbroken she was that Harry didn’t know how to respond to without coming across as uncaring. 

Then came the questions about whether they were still in touch anyway, the assertions that she must miss him so much, the compliments that she was handling it so well. Harry got a lot of practice nodding solemnly, injecting forced gratitude into her ambiguous smile when she felt anything but. 

Then, as so many things in high school quickly do, it passed, the concern and curiosity of her classmates meandering off to find some newer bit of gossip to latch on to. By the time the leaves began to change, Harry felt like she had as well. Or at least that her classmates’ perception of her had. 

Harry did miss Nick sometimes – his charm and his humor and his playfulness. But without him around to provide a steady supply of each, it was easier to remember that Harry contained those qualities too, and the students and teachers at Glenbrook North began to take notice as well.

She’d never be deified the way Nick was, but she’d never desired that the way Nick would never admit but definitely did. His charm felt effortless – it’s what drew people to him – but Harry knew it wasn’t. Not entirely. He wasn’t disingenuous, but he was intentional. 

Harry never feels like she’s trying to charm people, but she enjoys when it happens, perhaps all the more because she doesn’t completely understand it. She knows she tries to always be kind – something she couldn’t really have avoided with her mom and sister as role models – and she knows she’s easy to laugh and enjoys being around people, and she supposes those are all things people like. But she always chalks that up to luck, not charm. 

And she really is lucky. She knows that. She always has been. 

Her life has always been pretty easy, uncomplicated. With the exception of her parents’ divorce, which had been difficult for her at a young age but not as bad as many others she'd heard about, Harry has been able to cruise through life without too many worries. 

And she still is. 

But something is different now, too. 

Something is a little...off. 

And it’s not just that she misses Louis, though she does miss Louis – sometimes so much it keeps her up at night, the combination of yearning and confusion. 

But it’s not just that. 

It’s not just Louis. 

It’s something in the way she sees people now. 

Certain people. 

Certain girls. 

Something similar to how she felt around Louis. 

A little fainter, a little farther away than how it felt with Louis. But something about it is the same. 

It’s not only with girls who look like Louis, though sometimes they do.

It’s not only with girls who are like Louis in some other way, though sometimes they are. 

It’s just that something catches her attention sometimes that’s different from anything she’d noticed before. A particular kind of interest, though Harry can never quite nail down what kind. A desire to know more, but Harry can never quite describe to herself what about. Or why. 

It’s familiar, but not enough to grasp. 

It took her a while to even realize it was the same kind of feeling each time. 

And even longer to realize it was similar to what she’d felt all summer. 

And she’d only finally realized that because eventually she noticed that every time she felt that familiar something about a girl, as soon as that girl was gone, the same image elbowed itself to the front of her mind. 

A slight but scrappy sandy-haired girl with attitude to spare and the bluest eyes Harry’s ever seen. 

~~~~~

Louis had thought she wouldn’t be able to wait for winter break. 

The biggest part of her had been grateful to get away from home, desperate to flee to the freedom of college. But the most honest part of her had worried she’d be homesick immediately. Worried she’d find the same kind of people here as she had in high school, that she’d feel the same way in college she’d felt in high school. That she’d be miserable and just want to go home, where at least she’d gotten used to the way things sucked. 

But that’s not how things have gone.

It turns out this visual arts department at this college is exactly the right place for Louis. At least that’s how it feels so far. 

It’s a pretty small school, and she’s gotten to know most of the people in her department – the ones in her class at least – a little bit. She’s even made a few friends she’s fairly certain she’ll know for the rest of her life. 

And they’re nothing like the people she knows back home. They don’t look the same. They don’t talk about the same things. They don’t all care about football or popularity. And they’re not pretentious, at least most of them.

That’s something else Louis had worried about. She loves to draw, but she’s never considered herself a serious artist. And she’d been so relieved not to show up to her first class to find a bunch of beret-wearing snobs drinking brandy and talking about how some artist Louis’d never heard of had revolutionized the concept of art with a single piece in 1973. 

Her new friends do care about art and they want to talk about it. But mostly just what they love about each other’s and what they want to keep improving about their own. They’re full of self-doubt but unendingly supportive of each other. They’re sarcastic and sometimes sullen, but they’re also goofy and do dumb stuff without worrying about it. They’re smart in different ways and want just as badly as every other college student to make the most of being young and alive and free.

Louis’s been happier than she can ever remember being. She’s felt more herself than she ever has.

And that’s how (or maybe because) she’s starting to understand things about herself she’s never quite been able to grasp before.

It’s amazing how much easier it is to see yourself – all of yourself – when all your energy isn’t spent trying to keep other people from seeing you. 

Letting her defenses down in this new place where she felt more at home had left Louis feeling physically lighter. She’s quicker to say yes to going out with friends. Freer with affection. More open to the world around her, to the people around her. 

She notices more about the people around her, and about her own reactions to them. 

And she’s been less wary of examining her reactions. 

So Louis has learned a lot about herself over the past six weeks. 

She’s learned that almost every time she’s intrigued by a girl or a woman in a way she couldn’t quite place at first, she eventually found out (or assumed because of some aspect of their appearance or attitude) they were a lesbian.

She’s learned that the intrigue doesn’t mean she’s attracted to them. Not in the way she’s attracted to...well, not in the way of crushes or romance. But just that she finds herself wanting to be near them. To know them. Learn from them, maybe. To be like them in some way. 

But she’s learned how to recognize when her intrigue _is_ attraction, too. 

She’s noticed that she never seems to feel that particular intrigue about guys.

And she’s learning to feel more ok about all of it. 

~~~

There’s this girl in Louis’ class. 

She has long, dark hair and lovely brown skin and fills out her blouses in a way she minimizes with high necklines rather than slouching – like she’s not afraid for you to notice that aspect of her, but she gets to control how. She sits up straight and she participates in class discussions with a soft confidence that Louis doesn’t think she’s ever seen in anyone else. 

And Louis is mesmerized every time she speaks.

Lots of people in Louis’ classes are pretty. And lots of people – too many, if you ask Louis – talk a lot in class. But this girl, Maya, doesn’t talk just to hear herself speak or to impress the professor. She speaks because she has smart things to say. She knows answers to questions and has thoughtful questions to contribute in return.

And she has this gentle stammer that makes an appearance every few sentences. It doesn’t ever trip her up the way it would certainly trip Louis up. She doesn’t pause. She doesn’t mention it. It’s as if she doesn’t even notice. She just speaks through it like she knows it’s incidental. 

But Louis always notices it. She loves the way it punctuates the middle of points, not just the ends, like Maya’s trying to keep your attention roped in, prevent your mind from wandering. Louis knows that’s not it at all, that it’s not intentional. But it works nonetheless. Louis gets entangled in every sentence. 

And it’s not just the way she speaks, or even what she says, although the way she speaks is charming as hell and everything she says is laced with insight. Louis knows it’s not just that because Louis noticed her before she’d ever spoken a word in class. 

She'd noticed her the first day, while the class was seated quietly, waiting for the teacher to show up. She’s less petite than Louis, more solid. And she has this presence. Louis couldn’t help but notice her. Still can’t. She’s intrigued by this girl in her class. With the charming, incidental stammer and unassuming but mesmerizing shape.

At first Louis hadn’t understood why she was drawn to Maya. She just knew she felt vaguely guilty about studying her like she was determined to understand. 

Louis had figured it out a few weeks into the semester, when she was somewhat absentmindedly drawing Maya one afternoon between classes. She’s not proud of this, but it suddenly hit her as her pencil swept softly along the sketched curved line of her side. In the seconds it took her pencil tip to trace her memory of Maya’s hip, dipping slightly in at her waist before arching back out to draw the outline of her breast, Louis understood. 

Maya’s confidence and intelligence hadn’t caught her attention because they were impressive. They were. But those qualities had caught Louis’ attention because she was attracted to her. She didn’t just want to know how Maya knew so much, or how she was so steady when she spoke, despite her stammer. She did want to know those things. But more than that, Louis wanted to know whether her smile would make Louis’ heart race if she were staring into her eyes. She wanted to know whether her face felt as soft as it looked and how Louis’ hand would fit between her hip and her waist. How her lips would feel pressed to Louis’. 

That day – that dawning of understanding – had been a revelation and a disappointment. 

Louis had been relieved to finally name what she’d been feeling. But she’d also been frustrated. How many times was this going to happen? How many times would she have to realize the same thing about herself over and over before she stopped being confused about every cute girl she’s around?

Hadn’t she already done this when she reread her diaries over the summer and realized what she’d actually felt about those girls in junior high she claimed to hate? Hadn’t she figured it out a few weeks later after she and Harry fought at the water park, the day she’d spent being cruel to Harry’s best friend because she had been unable to acknowledge until it was too late that she didn’t hate Niall, she was jealous of her? Hadn’t she finally gotten it through her head when she spent the entire drive to school crying over what she was leaving behind at home, utterly confused by her emotional reaction until she realized she was actually only crying about losing Harry?

How many goddamn times does she have to realize she’s attracted to girls before she understands that this thing she’s feeling for this girl or that girl is fucking _attraction?_

She’d resolved that night, in the midst of her exasperation at herself, that she was going to actually do something about this crush on Maya. Maybe if she did, her brain would catch up to her hormones and she’d finally stop being so confused. 

And today – weeks later and for no particular reason other than possibly the subtle ridged texture of Maya’s stretchy black top – is the day. 

~

Louis has no idea how to flirt with girls. She has no idea how to flirt with anyone. So she decides she shouldn’t try (just the thought of trying is mortifying) and should just introduce herself to Maya like a normal person. Besides, she has no idea if Maya is even a lesbian – she has no reason to think she is. Louis has no idea how she’d react to being hit on by _any_ girl. 

Maya hadn’t talked much in class, so she seems slightly less intimidating today. That must be how Louis finds it in her to approach as she’s gathering her things and putting them in her backpack. 

“Um, Maya, right?” 

Maya turns to face Louis and Louis almost forgets how to speak. 

“Yeah, hi. You’re Louise, right?”

“Louis, actually.”

“Oh, sorry. Hi, Louis. Nice to meet you.” She extends her hand and Louis somehow remembers the normal human response to that is to return the gesture and shake. 

Her skin _is_ as soft as it looks. So Louis knows that now. 

“So, Louis, are you an Art History major, too?”

“Me, no, I’m an artist, actually. Actually never thought much about the history of it all, but I’m glad this is a required class, it’s been really interesting so far.”

“It is, isn’t it? I love it. I wish I could actually draw though, I’m awful.”

“I could show you sometime,” Louis says, although she has no idea how she had the gall. “I mean, I could even draw you, if you’d like.”

“Oh…”

_Crap._

Louis’s blown it. She snaps her mouth shut and is about to yell an apology and run out the door straight to the Dean’s office to drop the class when she sees it. 

A very subtle but almost definitely not imaginary blush creeping across Maya’s cheeks. A dusting of pink that Louis is responsible for.

“Y-you’d...you’d really w-want to draw _m-me?”_ Maya asks, and Louis is a complete asshole because she’s actually proud of herself for bringing Maya’s stutter out more than she’s ever heard it. She should apologize. She should take it back. 

She doesn’t want to.

“Of course. What kind of artist wouldn’t want to draw _you?”_

Louis has no idea where that came from, she just knows she’ll say it a hundred more times if it elicits the same reaction – that surprised laugh and shy smile and brighter blush. 

It’s a revelatory moment, realizing she can fluster a beautiful, smart woman. And without actually even trying too hard. By accident, really.

But it’s also a painful one. 

Because it makes her miss Harry. 

_Shit._

~~~~~

Harry doesn’t have to wait ‘til Christmas.

One of Gemma’s midterms involves showing three designs in a student fashion show and she asked Harry to come visit the weekend it’s happening for moral support and to be a living dress form for frantic last-minute alterations. Harry’s really excited to help Gemma and see some of her latest work (and maybe some models) in a real-life fashion show, but she’d be lying if she said the thought of being on the same campus as Louis didn’t double her excitement. 

She loves her sister. And she loves cheering her on. But she hasn’t seen Louis in months. They haven’t even talked.

And Harry really needs to see what College Louis is like. 

She needs to know whether the Louis who hugged her so tightly and looked at her so hopefully that last night is still there. 

Of course, she doesn’t even know if she’ll get to see Louis while she’s there. Harry keeps reminding herself of that, trying to keep her hopes from floating off where she can’t reach them. She even tries to convince herself she’s not actually _hoping_ to see Louis, just that it’d be nice if it happens. It’s not _that_ big of a college. It’s possible. 

_It’s possible._

“I don’t know, Harry, I don’t even get why you’d want to see her, anyway.”

There’s no reason Niall would get it. If Harry were Niall, she’d be confused too. 

Because Harry’s never explained. They’ve never even talked about that day at the water park, not really. 

Harry had been too embarrassed. And Niall was too kind. 

“You two aren’t even friends anymore, right? You haven’t mentioned her since...I mean, I don’t remember the last time I’ve even heard the name Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry doesn’t really know where to start. 

“Yeah, no, I mean, we’re not exactly friends, I guess. We haven’t talked or anything.”

“But you still think you might see her when you’re up visiting Gemma?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, I guess. I was just thinking it might be nice to.”

Niall furrows her brows. “You just seemed so mad at her that day when she took off at the water park. Or maybe not mad exactly – or, not _just_ mad. You definitely didn’t seem happy with her.”

“Yeah,” Harry offers, not much else she can really say to that. 

“And you never mentioned her the rest of the summer when we finally hung out more. Or since. I just figured you were done with her.”

Harry jerks her head up at that. “Done with her? That’s a little harsh, Niall.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that,” Niall replies, more softly now. “I just mean...it seemed like it was over. Your friendship.” Niall winces slightly. 

But she’s right. There was no reason Niall would think otherwise. 

There’s not that much of a reason for Harry to think otherwise, either. 

Those few moments that last night after she’d broken up with Nick, they didn’t really mean anything. They didn’t mean Louis would still want to see Harry. That she would still want to be friends. Or...whatever. 

They had felt like a huge relief at the time. Like they’d fixed whatever had gone wrong. But it could have just been Louis feeling bad for Harry that Nick and her had just broken up. And Louis was probably nervous about leaving for school and just needed someone to make her feel better. 

It didn’t mean anything, probably. 

But Harry couldn’t stop herself from hoping it might. And this weekend was a chance to find out. 

If she was lucky enough to see Louis. 

But Niall has no reason to understand why Harry would hope anything relating to Louis. 

And Harry hates that. 

“Umm, well, yeah,” Harry starts, somehow. “That’s basically true. I mean, we haven’t talked since then – except for just the night Nick and I broke up.”

“You saw her that night? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, I guess I was focused on the major news from that evening.”

Niall laughs, thank God. “Fair. But so, what was it like that night? You actually talked, or you just happened to see her there and said ‘hey’ to each other?”

“We didn’t talk for too long, but for a bit. Basically just long enough for her to tell me she was leaving for school early and that maybe we’d hang out when she’s back over Christmas.”

“Did she apologize for being so heinous that day at the park?”

Harry has to think about it before she answers, because although there’s never an apology when she replays that night to herself, there was something about Louis that felt sorry. But she hadn’t actually said it. “No, not exactly.”

“Wow, she’s got some nerve.”

“No,” Harry replies immediately, needing to defend Louis, “I mean, she didn’t literally say the words ‘I’m sorry,’ but...I don’t know how to explain this, but it still felt like we were ok after that. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“Not really, Harry. I think she still owes you one.”

Niall’s probably right. Harry knows she’s right. But she can’t help that she’s forgiven Louis anyway. 

“Yeah, I know. But it just...it didn’t come up that night. I know that sounds weird or whatever. Maybe we were too surprised to see each other or something. We just basically hugged and said goodbye. It was kind of like that day at the water park hadn’t happened. Or like it had happened a really long time ago, I don’t know. It was just nice to see her and get to say goodbye before she left.”

“Wow. Break up with Nick and make up with Louis all in one night. Busy night for you, Harriett.”

Harry laughs, but it’s cut short by the serious look on Niall’s face. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me that part. We hung out basically non-stop after you and Nick broke up.”

“I know, I just...It felt a little weird talking to you about Louis, especially after that day was such a disaster. I just didn’t know what to say, or how to explain, or anything.”

“Explain what?”

_Crap._

Harry hadn’t meant to say that. How is she going to explain that? 

_Shit._

“Harry?” Niall reaches over and lays her hand gently on top of Harry’s. At some point while Harry was trying to figure out what to say, Niall had walked over to the bed where Harry was sitting and had sat down next to her. “Harry, are you ok?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Harry, what is _up_ with you and Louis Tomlinson? What’s your deal with her? Even before that day at the water park, you always got a little...I don’t know, strange, I guess, when you talked about her.”

Harry’s head snaps up. “What do you mean, strange? I am not. And there’s no _deal.”_

“Hey, relax. Sorry, I don’t mean anything by it. I just don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like you never quite know what to say. And I know you, Harry. You may talk slower than anyone I’ve ever known, but it’s always in a way like you’re just carefully choosing your words, not that you’re actually at a loss for them.”

Harry swallows and every individual muscle fiber in her throat makes itself known.

“Except when you’re talking about Louis.”

Harry can only nod, because she is, as Niall has just pointed out is so often the case when it comes to talking about Louis, at a loss. 

Strange that she’s never at a loss when she’s talking _to_ Louis. 

“What is it about her, Harry?”

“I think I like her, Niall.”

Harry’s entire body freezes, unable to believe what she just said, but it feels more like she’s filled with fire than ice.

“I know you like her, Harry, that’s what I’m trying to–”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “I like her.”

“Alright, well repeating yourself is a step up from mute, I guess. Baby steps, huh?”

“Niall.” Harry has no idea where this certainty is coming from, how she's saying these words right now to her best friend while lava is coursing through her veins. She has no idea what will happen once she’s finished saying them. She just knows she’s tired of being unsure. And she’s tired of being the only one who knows.

She flips her hand over under Niall’s palm so she can lace their fingers together, and she squeezes tightly as she turns her head to look Niall in her searching blue eyes.

“I _like_ her.”

Niall’s jaw drops but she recovers quickly and she purses her lips. “Like...you mean, like... _like_ like?”

Harry can only nod. Her eyes squeeze shut, wetness seeping out from between her eyelids as a barely-there breath escapes from between her lips. 

Niall doesn’t say anything and the silence wraps around Harry tightly enough that it threatens to crack her ribs. 

Just as she’s about to turn to her friend and plead with her to...she doesn’t know what, exactly, she feels the bed shift. 

_Oh God, she’s getting up. She’s just going to leave without saying a word._

But the weight next to her doesn’t lift from the mattress, it just moves a few inches closer. And before Harry realizes what’s happening, she feels her best friend’s arm wrap around her back, her hand gripping her opposite shoulder tightly as she lays her head gently on the one between them. 

“Ok,” Niall says, barely above a whisper but with strength enough to chase out the fear coiling in Harry’s stomach. 

“We better get you ready for this weekend, then.”

~~~~~

Gemma’s fashion show is Saturday evening and their mom lets Harry skip school on Friday (with a note) to go up and help her prep. 

Friday day is a flurry of helping Gemma wrangle her models for final fittings, giving supportive shoulder squeezes anytime Gemma stands still for more than three seconds, and note-taking during practice catwalks as Gemma shouts what still needs to be fixed before tomorrow. 

Friday night is miraculously calm considering the show is in less than 24 hours. 

Harry and Gemma are with some of Gemma’s designer friends in their work room. Most of them have looks in the show tomorrow and they all wanted a little company as they stress over their final imperfections. One guy, Andre, had decided after dinner that one of his outfits was unsalvageable and had started completely over, but after his initial freakout and a collective show of absolute faith by everyone else in the work room, he had settled into a trance-like focus as he got back to work, and the atmosphere had been mostly peaceful since. 

Harry stands extremely still to avoid being poked by any of the needles Gemma is placing carefully (but not carefully enough if you ask Harry) around the bottom of the skirt she’s marking to hem. She’s concentrating on quashing the preemptive winces that threaten to fill her face every few seconds when she hears one of Gemma’s friends – Ben, she thinks his name is – talking about a cute guy in one of his classes. He so casually and emphatically details the ways in which this guy is precisely his type that Harry completely forgets to worry about being stabbed and stares directly at him – gawking, if she’s honest. 

“Hey,” Gemma shout-whispers from below, tugging at the skirt to get Harry’s attention, “fish face! Don’t be rude.”

Harry snaps her face down to meet Gemma’s eyes and whispers back, “I wasn’t! What?”

Gemma stands so she can lower her voice even further. “Your jaw practically hit the floor,” she insists, an edge in her voice that Harry’s not at all used to from her sister and leaves no room for argument. 

“Sorry,” Harry whispers. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s ok, baby,” Ben calls from across the room, and Harry’s heart drops with a splash into her stomach. 

“I– I didn’t mean...sorry, I just–” 

Ben’s laugh interrupts Harry, thank God. 

“Not used to hearing boys talk about other boys?”

“Ben, don’t mind her,” Gemma starts, and Harry’s stomach twists in a combination of guilt and embarrassment. 

But Ben waves his hand and shushes her. “She’s in high school, Gems, give her a break. No need to come to my defense over a sheltered suburban girl getting a little dumbstruck by...a _Gay!”_ He whispers the last word and looks around like he’s making sure no one overheard and shoots Harry a wink. 

Harry thinks she loves him. 

“I am sorry, Ben,” Harry offers meekly. “I really didn’t mean anything. It’s just...it’s like you said. Not used to hearing it is all.”

“I get it, sweetie. I certainly never heard anyone like me yapping about cute boys when I was in high school, either.”

Harry smiles. She definitely loves him. 

“So, you didn’t, in high school, I mean…”

“Didn’t yap about cute boys in polite company? Uh, no.” Ben barks a laugh and every remaining ounce of embarrassment and worry drains from Harry.

“So, like,” Harry soldiers on, “you just pretended you didn’t think they were cute?”

Ben smiles at Harry so sweetly then that Harry finds herself confused about what’d said to deserve it. 

“It wasn’t that simple, really. Harry, right? You have to know who you are to pretend to be something else. I don’t think I really _knew_ I was gay back then, exactly. I guess I was pretending a little, but it was more with myself.” 

That sounds awful to Harry.

“What, um, what was that like?”

Ben patiently explains to Harry what high school was like for him, answering every question she asks as though Harry has any right at all to know such personal things about him, all while continuing to add details to the jacket he’s working on. He never makes Harry feel like she’s being nosy, or like he’s annoyed at having to put up with his friend’s kid sister’s pestering. 

He just tells her about how he never actually knew in high school that he was gay, or at least didn’t understand it enough to admit it to himself. About how once he was in college and realized he was, he also realized he’d known on some level for a very long time, but just didn’t have the words – or the strength – to acknowledge it.

When Harry asks how he’d realized it, what it was about college, Ben admits he’s not completely sure, but he thinks it’s just that he finally felt free from his old life – from his small town and his big family – and he met so many different kinds of people, including some older students who were open about being gay, and he finally understood that there were so many ways to be beyond what he’d grown up seeing. 

When Harry asks what he meant when he said he realized he’d always known on some level, Ben smiles and tells Harry about how, growing up, he’d never really understood when all the guys at his school were obsessed with a particular cheerleader or some supposedly hot teacher, or how jealous they all were of the guy in _The Blue Lagoon_ because he got to do it with Brooke Shields. And he knew something was weird about the fact that he cared more about the actual dancing in _Flashdance_ than Jennifer Beals drenching herself. 

Harry doesn’t quite relate to that. She absolutely understood the fuss over Jake Ryan and definitely fantasized more than once about being Molly Ringwald leaning over that cake. And she was just as grateful for the cast of _The Outsiders_ as every other girl she knew. 

But then Ben starts talking about noticing boys in his school, and male celebrities too (“God, I _never_ would have agreed to go with my friends to see _Red Dawn_ if Patrick Swayze weren’t in it.”) and it all starts to feel very familiar to Harry. 

“That makes sense.” 

Harry’s startled by her sister’s voice after she’d been silent for so long. Harry’d assumed she was just ignoring them, finishing her pieces. Apparently she’d be listening the whole time, just letting them talk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever found another girl attractive,” Gemma adds. “I mean, I know that Cindy Crawford and Michelle Pfeiffer are gorgeous, but I definitely don’t feel anything for them.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not gay, sweetie.” Ben and Gemma laugh and Harry’s grateful for the break in conversation because all she can hear is Ben saying to Gemma “Yeah, _you’re_ definitely not gay” over and over again. Harry knows it was directed at Gemma because Ben had been specifically responding _to_ Gemma. But she can’t help feel the weight of the fact that it was _not_ directed at her. 

After what feels like far too long – like Gemma and Ben must have noticed how quiet she’d gotten – Harry asks Ben to keep going, and he does. But he says there’s not much more to it. In high school, he just mostly ignored all of that. He knew he shouldn’t talk about how hot Rob Lowe and Emilio Estevez were, so he didn't. He even avoided talking about how cool they were, in case anyone could tell what he actually meant. But he convinced himself everyone else secretly thought it too, and that it didn’t mean anything. 

When Ben tells Harry about this one friend his senior year of high school that he started getting really attached to, Harry freezes. She tries to listen to Ben talking about how his friendship with this boy just felt different and he didn’t understand why, he just knew he wanted to spend all his time with him, but all she can do is concentrate on the fact that she has to remain perfectly still or else everyone will definitely know exactly what she’s thinking. 

Luckily, she stays still enough, so Ben can’t tell how her mind is reeling. He talks a little more about his friend, and how he’d slowly started pulling away, avoiding Ben in the halls and not calling him back anymore. Ben sounds so sad when he talks about it that Harry is tempted to jump down from the little box Gemma’s had her standing on to run over and hug him. But then Ben laughs and jokes (pretends to joke, Harry thinks) that he can’t blame him, that the poor kid just had no idea what to do with a clueless boy drooling all over him. “He probably just figured I was a freak and thought it was safer to stay away.”

And that breaks Harry’s heart a little. 

But it also gives her hope. 

Because Louis has never made Harry feel that way, like there’s something wrong with her for wanting to spend so much time with her. Louis always seemed to want to spend more time with Harry, too. They’ve never discussed it, but it always felt mutual. 

~~~

That night, when Harry and Gemma are back in Gemma’s room, lying in bed with the lights off, having already wished each other goodnight, Harry casually brings up Ben and how nice it is that he figured everything out and feels so much better about it all now. She holds her breath as she waits for Gemma’s response, sure she’s given herself away and Gemma will see right through her, even in the dark. Harry must have done a good job, though, because Gemma just hums in agreement. 

“It is very nice, Harry. I’m happy for him.”

“Yeah,” Harry exhales in relief, as slowly as she can to avoid making too much noise. “Night, Gems. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Squirt.” 

~~~~~

When Harry sees Louis, her heart nearly leaps from her chest.

Gemma had run off in search of her teacher the second the fashion show ended, promising to be back in a few minutes that had stretched into fifteen. So Harry had meandered around, weaving through the remaining crowd, quietly observing the masses one by one and amusing herself by trying to guess who was a fashion design student and who had just tried their best to dress like one for the event. She was just congratulating herself on avoiding knocking her elbow into a wildly gesticulating girl and re-focusing on not spilling her tiny plastic cup of terrible (free) wine when she picked her head back up and saw her. 

She’s wearing a maroon t-shirt with a neckline so wide both sleeves are just shy of off-the-shoulder, the right one so precariously balanced it threatens to slip over the edge any second, pulling Harry down with it. 

The memory of Gemma from the night before saying she’d never found another girl attractive echoes in Harry’s ear as she wonders what it might feel like to kiss Louis exactly once on each exposed collarbone. Whether it would elicit a giggle or still her completely.

 _Well, you’re definitely not_ not _gay, sweetie._

Harry twists around looking for Ben before realizing his proclamation was only in her head. Maybe it hadn’t even been in his voice. 

By the time Harry turns back toward where she’d seen Louis, she’s crossed halfway across the room toward Harry, somehow dodging each body in the sea of people between them without ever seeming to take her eyes off Harry.

Harry’s throat goes dry at the sight of Louis approaching so...steadfastly, and the too-sweet wine _(it was free, Harry)_ does nothing to help. 

When Louis reaches her and stops, she smiles shyly as if she’s approaching someone she’s never met and it sends a spark through Harry. 

“I was hoping you might be here.”

Harry can’t have heard her right. Another trick of her mind, which has suddenly become a fucking ventriloquist. 

Louis can’t have been hoping Harry would be here tonight. She had no idea Harry was even on campus. 

“It’s why I came, actually,” Louis continues, slightly softer but with a slightly bigger smile. 

Harry is so confused. Or maybe just overwhelmed. Louis is so close. She looks even better up close. Her collarbones look even better up close. 

“Harry? Are you hearing me?”

_Shit._

_Stop being a freak. Get it together._

“Yeah, um, sorry. Yeah. Um, what?”

_Perfect._

“I mean,” she hurriedly forces out before Louis can give up and leave, “just a little loud in here.”

“Oh, sure,” Louis replies, too trusting or too kind to call out Harry’s bullshit excuse, “I just said I was hoping to see you here. Saw the flier with Gemma’s name the other day and thought, maybe…” She trails off and Harry cannot help herself.

“You wanted to see me? You came tonight just in case I might be here?”

Louis’ smile breaks completely free at that and Harry copies her like they’re playing Follow the Leader. She feels her dimple pop (only ever notices that when she’s smiling at Louis) and swears Louis’ eyes flick over to it for a fraction of a second. 

“Of course I wanted to see you, Harry.” 

“Me t–” 

_“There_ you are!” Gemma shouts, so much louder than she needs to, “I’ve been looking for you all over!” She half collapses on Harry, her wine cup thankfully empty (definitely not for the first time since the show ended), in what Harry assumes is meant to be a hug but might just be an attempt to stay upright. 

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Harry laughs, clinking their empty cups together, “looking for me is exactly what it seems like you’ve been doing all this time.”

Gemma exhales an obnoxious sigh into Harry’s face. “Well, I _was,”_ she pouts. 

Louis’ laugh catches Gemma’s attention and she turns to finally see her.

“Ohhhh, well hello there, Louis.” She turns back to Harry before returning to look at Louis again. “Interrupting something, I hope?”

Harry rolls her eyes but her insides turn molten and she hopes the wine has already made her cheeks pink enough to hide the sudden temperature change. 

“Hey, Gemma,” Louis replies, giving away nothing. “It’s good to see you. Congrats on the show. I really loved your stuff.”

Gemma abandons her shit-stirring for the moment to sincerely thank Louis, for the compliment and for coming to the show in the first place. 

Louis doesn’t tell Gemma she’d come for Harry. 

“So, are you going out to celebrate?” Louis asks her.

Gemma nods and Harry adds, “yeah, some place nearby that she and her friends go a lot. Would you – Gem, is it ok if Louis comes? – I mean, if you want to, Louis.”

“Of cooooourse,” Gemma drawls. “But honestly, girls, you two should go do something more fun. I guarantee we won’t last two minutes before we just start droning on about how if only we’d had a few more hours, this trim would have been finished or that fit could’ve been perfect. It’d be so boring for you two, honestly. Just insufferable, obsessive fashion talk – and not the fun kind. And once we start, there’ll be no stopping us. Tell her, Harry, you’ve had to suffer through it the last 36 hours, you know all too well.”

“So, what, you’re saying if all I have to contribute is ‘I like green the best,’ that I’m not welcome at your fancy fashion party?” Louis asks. 

“Oh thank God. I knew you’d understand. Harry, please take her far away where she can’t embarrass me and ruin my reputation.” 

Louis and Harry both giggle and Gemma pats Louis’ cheek and pinches Harry’s before excusing herself to find her friends (via the drinks table) with a gentle command of, “Off you go. See you back at my place later, Harry.” 

“So…” Louis starts, her eyebrows raised.

“So,” Harry replies, a smile filling her face, “want to show me what it’s like to be in college?”

~~~ 

Louis takes Harry to a bar near campus that serves food and doesn’t card. They sit at a booth in a relatively quiet corner and Louis drinks cheap beer and Harry drinks well vodka tonics (she remembers the name of the drink from some movie, she thinks) and they split cheese fries and they talk about nothing at all of consequence but they keep laughing and Harry keeps noticing new things about Louis’ face. 

Freckles she hadn’t seen before. The way she doesn’t seem to trim her eyebrows but each individual hair seems to belong exactly where it is – even on the outer edges when they spread out a bit. That she has a million different hues of blue in her eyes, when Harry had always thought they were a solid color, had thought that was the only way they could possibly be _so_ perfectly blue. The way she almost always seems to fight her smile at first – sometimes pursing her lips into that upside-down V, sometimes gently biting her bottom lip – but eventually loses out.

Studying Louis the way she is, it’s amazing Harry even notices the two girls who approach the bar several feet from their table. Something about the way they interact, even just the way they walk and stand and sit near each other, feels...like something. Either completely foreign or tantalizingly familiar, and Harry can’t figure out which. 

Louis notices Harry watching and turns her head to find what she’s been examining. 

By then, the girls are seated at the bar with a round of drinks. Their shoulders are touching – or close enough that from Harry and Louis’ table they look to be. And not that touching shoulders at a bar is rare, but. But _something._

Louis doesn’t ask Harry why she’s staring. She doesn’t remark on the girls or anything else. She just quietly watches along with Harry. 

The bartender delivers a plate of appetizers to the girls and one of them throws her head back and dramatically exclaims she’s never been so excited to eat a mozzarella stick in her life before professing her love for the bartender. The other girl responds by poking her in the side and saying something Harry can’t hear, but looks like teasing. 

“They’re cute together,” Louis says, her voice tentative, like she isn’t sure whether she wants Harry to hear her. 

Harry sternly instructs her face to behave and turns back toward Louis. 

“You think they’re together? Like...a couple?”

Louis shrugs, but there’s a pleading in her eyes that belies the nonchalance she’s trying to project. “Don’t know, but seems like it, doesn’t it?”

Harry nods in agreement. Of course she thinks they’re a couple. It’s why she hasn’t been able to stop watching them since they walked in.

“Guess so.”

Louis nods and turns her attention back to their forgotten fries, studying the ketchup as though her next dip will determine the course of her life. 

“One of Gemma’s friends is gay,” Harry blurts out, destroying any semblance of cool she might have hoped to maintain. 

Louis doesn’t react as if Harry just said something completely out of the blue. She just says she’d guess more than one of Gemma’s friends is gay, given what she studies. There’s lightness in her statement, but no joking. 

Harry laughs softly and agrees that’s probably true. 

She tells Louis about her conversation with Ben, about how he hadn’t figured out he was gay until he got here. Louis nods along thoughtfully and agrees how sad it is that he didn’t get to be himself until he left home. 

“My roommate’s best friend is a lesbian,” Louis tells Harry. “She’s a year ahead of us, and doesn’t hide it at all, at least not around friends, so I never would have guessed it, but I think she’s basically the same as Gemma’s friend. I mean as far as not realizing, or not telling anyone at least, until she had been here for a while.” 

“Wow.”

“Yeah, and even with her, I think she still isn’t totally comfortable around most people. Like, I think of her as so open, but one time I went with her and my roommate to a bar over on North Halsted, and I didn’t know before we got there, but it was a gay bar. And it was like I could see her relax the second we walked inside. Even though she and my roommate have been friends forever, and she doesn’t seem like she’s trying to hide anything around me ever or anything. I just had never seen her like that before. It was kind of like she was a totally different person – happier and friendlier and louder. And she’s all those things always – you’d love her, she’s so great – but it was just different there. Like she was _more_ of all of those things there. _She_ was more.” 

“It’s so strange.”

“What is?” Louis asks.

“To not be able to be yourself for so long. To not even know who you are until you meet someone else like you who’s already figured it out.”

“Or is figuring it out at the same time,” Louis replies. She holds Harry’s gaze but seems like she’s one flinch or eyebrow raise or hint of uncertainty from looking away. Harry smiles as calmly as she can, desperate to assure Louis she doesn’t want that. She wants her to see that she means it when she replies.

“Yeah,” Harry says, when the fight or flight franticness has drained a bit from Louis’ eyes. “Or that.”

~~~

After a second round of drinks and a shared basket of tater tots with ranch dip (the official condiment of college, according to Louis), they leave the bar so Louis can give Harry a tour of the campus. Harry’s visited Gemma plenty of times the last few years, but she’d never admit to Louis how much of the campus she’s already seen. 

And besides, she’s never seen it with Louis. Never seen the parts Louis likes best. 

So they walk around for thirty minutes or so, until they start to get too cold to pretend they’re not, and Louis shows Harry her favorite places to study and read and draw. Nothing quite as good as the elementary school park (“Not a single swing set on the whole campus, if you can believe it.”), but Harry can still imagine Louis in each place. 

And Harry isn’t quite sure whether she’s imagining it, or whether it’s only happening because every minute the chill in the air becomes more pronounced, but it seems to her that the longer they walk around together, the more frequently their shoulders nudge into each other or one of their hands brush or bumps the other – hands that belong more in jacket pockets than swinging at their sides. 

Eventually the shoulder nudges do stop. Because eventually they’re walking so closely beside each other that they simply stay pressed together. 

And despite how serious that all feels to Harry, how much of her attention it requires, they still manage to joke and laugh and banter. (Or is it flirting? Harry can never quite tell.)

They talk about how their semesters have been so far. Louis tells Harry more about how college has been, what it’s like. How she feels more free and light and excited just being here, on her own in some ways, but surrounded by people she feels closer to than almost anyone she’d known in high school. Harry clings to that “almost” as she tells Louis that she’s enjoying her senior year – that she knows she’s enjoyed high school in general in a way Louis hadn’t, but that she’s still really excited for college next year. 

She tells Louis that she still feels like it will open things up for her, in ways she’s actively hoping for and in ways she probably doesn’t even know to expect. She tells her that she’s excited to be around people who are different from her and from everyone she’s grown up with, but also that she’s looking forward to being around more people who are _more_ like her. She doesn’t elaborate on that last point, and Louis doesn’t ask. But Harry thinks she sees Louis nod out of the corner of her eye. 

Louis asks where Harry thinks she might go to college and Harry tells her she’s applying to places nearby, but also some schools in California and a few out east. Louis says she understands when Harry explains she’s a little scared about the idea of moving somewhere far away for college, but also agrees that the idea is really appealing, too. She tells Harry that she knows she’ll be happy and do great no matter where she goes. And then she jokes that if Harry ends up at a school anywhere nearby, she’ll be stuck hanging out with Louis at least sometimes, so Harry should take that into consideration. 

Harry thinks she definitely might. 

~~~

Louis’ roommate is gone for the weekend. 

Harry learns that when Louis asks if she wants to see what a college dorm looks like (“Trust me, it’s nothing like St. Elmo’s Fire.”) and Harry insists she doesn’t want to barge in on her roommate this late. 

“It’s fine. She’s not even there. Come on, I’m freezing.”

Harry agrees – she’s cold too – and the butterflies in her stomach do nothing to warm her up, despite how relentlessly they flap around the entire walk to Louis’ dorm. 

There’s not much to it. Louis was right; it’s nothing you’d put in a movie. Just a small square room with two twin beds pressed up against opposite walls to make barely enough room for two small desks, which double as bedside tables, and two tiny dressers.

Each side of the room has clearly been decorated by different people. Louis’ side is empty save a single poster of an almost cartoon-looking version of Elizabeth Taylor, mostly black and white but with smudged teal eyeshadow and dark red lips. Her roommate’s side is filled with pinned up photographs and posters of all kinds of art – some Harry recognizes from museum trips she’s taken with her mom and some that aren’t familiar in the slightest. 

“It’s nice,” Harry offers. “I like your poster.”

Louis shrugs. “It’s practically a requirement to have at least one cheap poster print of a famous piece of art in your freshman dorm. I figured Liz here was a good choice to keep me company.”

“She definitely is,” Harry agrees, trying to hide how sheepish she feels at having no idea it’s a famous piece of art. The style looks a little familiar, now that Louis’ said that, but she can’t place it. 

She’s about to ask Louis about _her_ art when Louis suddenly sighs heavily and says, “Harry, I need to say something.”

Harry’s stomach plummets and she has to fight the urge to flee from the room immediately. She makes a pitiful attempt at joking that Louis sounds far too serious, but the pained look on Louis’ face snaps her mouth shut and she simply nods.

“Ok,” she practically whispers, bracing herself for whatever Louis is about to say. 

“I’m sorry.”

That’s not at all what Harry was expecting.

“I owe you an apology and I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long. And that I’ve pretended like nothing’s wrong this whole time when I should have apologized right away.”

Harry has no idea what Louis is apologizing for. They’ve had such a fun night, and Harry is racking her brain trying to remember anything Louis’s done wrong. 

“I should have apologized months ago, actually.”

_Oh._

“Louis, it’s o–”

“No,” Louis cuts her off and Harry doesn’t push back. “Please don’t say it’s ok. It’s not ok. It never has been. And it’s bad enough you’ve been so nice to me this whole time. Even that last night I saw you before I left, when you had every right to still be so mad at me. You were so nice, even then. And I didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it.”

“Louis,” Harry tries half-heartedly to stop her, because it hurts to see Louis sad, even when she’d been wrong. 

“Harry, please,” Louis continues. “Please let me apologize. I don’t want you to tell me it’s ok – I don’t want you to think it’s ok when I do something shitty to you, or to one of your friends.”

“Or to both,” Harry says, surprising herself.

“Especially to both,” Louis agrees. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry I was such an unbelievable bitch that day to you and Niall. I can try to explain – I want to try to explain – but first I just need you to know that, more important than any reason or explanation, I know I was awful and it was so wrong and I’m just really sorry. You deserve so much better than that. I hate that I was such an asshole to you at all, but especially when you were trying to introduce me to your best friend. I’m just. I’m so sorry.”

Tears prickle at Harry’s eyes and she exhales a huge sigh. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear that. She had mostly been successful at pretending she didn’t ever since that last night she'd seen Louis. It had been so nice to see her and talk to her and hug her before she was gone that Harry’d convinced herself that was enough. She’d had to. Because otherwise, the amount Harry missed Louis, despite how mean she’d been to her and her best friend, would have made her feel pathetic. So she’d acted like she’d forgiven Louis even without an apology. 

But she hadn’t, apparently. And now she could.

“Thank you for saying that, Louis.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Harry nods. “It’s ok.”

Louis tilts her head and arches her eyebrow, her mouth opening to no doubt argue with Harry about it not being ok again, but Harry corrects herself before she can. 

“Or, I just mean. I understand why you didn’t. I know you were probably just scared to.”

“I was yeah,” Louis agrees, “but that’s still no excuse.”

“Maybe not,” Harry says, “but I get it. I wanted to pretend it never happened, too.”

“But it did, though. I was awful, and I hate that I behaved that way.”

Harry looks at Louis, her face filled with regret, and she wants to just tell her she forgives her, but she needs to understand.

“Why _did_ you?” Harry asks. 

“I’ve thought about it a lot. Almost every day since, actually.”

Harry can’t quite believe that. She hadn’t even thought about it nearly that often. And Niall had barely mentioned it. 

“I felt really bad about it, obviously, and that’s part of why I couldn’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been an asshole plenty of times, and those don’t stay with me.”

Harry can’t help but laugh at that, though she doesn’t think Louis was joking. Louis laughs, too, the few moments of levity brightening her face before she turns serious again.

“I just,” she starts, looking both guilty and embarrassed but also determined, “I was jealous of Niall.”

Harry can’t quite believe that either. Bouncy, lovable Niall?

“She’s so pretty and everyone seems to love her, and she just...it seems like her life is so easy.”

Harry puts herself in Louis’ shoes and suddenly it does make sense, her being jealous of Niall. Harry never had been, but Harry was so like Niall in so many ways, they’d become friends immediately. Being jealous of her had never occurred to Harry, would never have made sense. For her.

She knows Louis and Niall are more alike than either of them thinks, or maybe could ever see, but from the outside, Harry absolutely understands how Louis could feel like Niall is everything she’s not. How she _has_ everything that Louis thinks she doesn’t.

“But it’s not just that, I don’t think. Not just that I was jealous of her because of all that. It was more that I knew she was your best friend. And I was scared of losing you.”

“Of losing me? Louis, why would you think that? I wanted you two to meet finally because I wanted us _all_ to be friends.”

“I know, Harry. I know that. And this isn’t your fault. You never said or did anything to make me feel this way. And of course it was never about thinking you could only be friends with Niall or me, really. People have more than one friend, I know that. But I was just...so insecure. I just thought about all the ways Niall is better than me–”

“Louis–”

“–and all the reasons you – or anyone really – would rather spend time with her than me. And I just was so afraid that if you hung out with both of us at the same time, it’d be so obvious that she was more worth your time. Like it would suddenly become clear to you how ridiculous it was that you’d ever decided to spend time with me when you could be hanging out with her instead.”

“Oh, Louis.” 

“So I just lashed out instead. Figured I’d make it easier. Made it so it was my choice that you picked her over me. That I was the one who said we shouldn’t be friends. Before you could realize it on your own.”

Harry’s gotten used to her heart behaving oddly where Louis is concerned, but this throbbing is new. This heavy, heaving pulse that’s distressing like heartbreak but colored by a yearning that’s standing ready to catch someone, rather than chasing after them. 

Louis heaves a shuddering sigh and Harry takes a few cautious steps toward her, wanting so badly to pull her into a hug, but stopping short, worried it would be too much right now. For Louis or her, she’s not entirely sure.

“I just...I’ve been so ready to fight for so many years. At the slightest things. And you and Niall did nothing to be on the receiving end of it. It just has never taken much to set me off. I’m so sorry.”

“You already apologized, Louis.” Harry tilts her head, imploring her to see it’s all alright.

Louis smiles at her, looking tired but also relieved. “I do think that part of me has changed since I came here,” Louis says, sounding more hopeful than she has since they got to her room. “Or, at least that it’s changing. I don’t feel nearly as tense. Not nearly as ready to be annoyed by everyone and everything. Maybe just because I have more control now over who I’m around more of the time.”

“That makes sense,” Harry replies, “And I’m really glad you feel that way, Louis. It must have always been so draining to be on edge all the time.”

“God, it really is. And it’s not completely gone. It’s definitely less, but I can tell it’s still here.”

Harry nods, no idea what to say, really, but wanting to encourage Louis, because it doesn’t feel like she’s quite finished. She still has more to say.

“I didn’t really realize I was still hanging on to some of that until that night I was telling you about earlier. The night I went with my roommate and her friend to that bar. The...um...that gay bar?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just. At some point toward the end of the night, after we’d been there a few hours, I realized how relaxed I felt. And not just because I was buzzed. I’ve definitely had nights where having a few drinks makes me feel worse, heavier. But that night, I felt, I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but lighter, basically. I wasn’t second guessing everything I said or worrying about what everyone might be thinking about me. My shoulders weren’t tight. I wasn’t cracking my knuckles. It was wild.”

“Sounds great.”

“It really was. And I didn’t fully understand _how_ different it felt until we stepped back outside on the way back to campus. It was so weird. Like someone flipped a switch.”

“Have you been back there since?”

“No,” Louis sighs. “I just haven’t seen my roommate’s friend – Sarah’s her name – in a little while. And going there– I mean, going to a bar by myself, I don’t know. I guess I’d be a little nervous. I mean I’ve only been there once. It’s not like it’s my place, you know?”

“Well I hope you do get to go again soon. It sounds like maybe it should be your place.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, I do want to go back.”

“I’d love to check it out.”

Louis smiles and it’s the first time in an hour she’s looked happy. “Ok,” she says, “Yeah, we should definitely go sometime.”

~

Louis is so talented. 

Harry had only seen a few of Louis’ drawings before tonight. The one she’d done of Harry while they were at the park (the one that had made Harry’s heart pause for half a second) and then a few more sketches throughout the rest of the summer. Nothing she had finished – she only ever let Harry see random doodles or half-done drawings – but Harry could tell she was good even so. 

But now, tonight, Louis was letting Harry see some of her final class projects, and, well, wow. 

“These are amazing,” she whispers, not wanting to disturb the images. “You’re an amazing artist, Louis.”

Louis’ been silent since she handed over her sketchbook, sitting backward at her desk chair, only occasionally glancing up from her fingers – occupied with very intensive hangnail maintenance – to glance at Harry where she sat on Louis’ bed, studying piece after piece. 

She pauses her fidgeting at the compliment and utters an almost silent thank you in the direction of her hands as Harry continues to flip through the pad.

_Oh._

“Oh.”

Louis' head snaps up at the sound, her smile gone. “Something wrong?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.

“No, no, not at all,” Harry soothes. “I just...sorry, this one just surprised me is all. It’s really good, just wasn’t expecting it.”

In the time it took Harry to awkwardly sputter that out, Louis had stood and crossed over to Harry and is now peeking over to see what piece Harry had gotten to. 

Harry’s cheeks warm instantly, either at her embarrassment over being surprised by a nude drawing or the sudden proximity of the girl who’d drawn it. Maybe both. 

Probably both. 

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t really give you a head’s up about the naked ladies,” Louis laughs, sounding a bit flustered herself. 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry assures her (or herself, more likely), desperate to cover up how immature she feels at her reaction to what’s probably a completely standard art school assignment. “Just wasn’t what I expected after all the bowls of fruit.”

Louis laughs, her light, raspy laugh, and Harry’s stomach finally unclenches. A little bit, at least. 

“Yeah, figure drawing is definitely a more interesting unit than still life. A lot more difficult, but it actually feels like I’m finally learning to be a real artist. Drawing stuff I’ve never drawn before.”

“So, like, was this gi– this woman, actually in your class when you drew this?”

“Yeah yeah. About six feet away, totally nude.”

“Wow.”

“It was so weird at first, Harry, but after a few minutes, it actually feels normal.”

“Really?” Harry winces at the slight squeak in her reply. 

“Well,” Louis laughs, “mostly normal. It’s not like I’m used to naked women just hanging around me while I study every line and curve. I guess it’s still a little strange.”

“So if I keep flipping through this notebook, will I find a bunch more naked people?”

“Afraid not,” Louis answers dryly, “we’ll have to go ask some of my hallmates if they have any _gentlemen’s_ magazines if you have a hankering for more.”

Harry’s heart picks up its pace at the thought and she laughs to keep Louis from noticing. “I suppose I can make do with this one.”

Louis laughs in reply and adds, “I promise I'll bring you back a whole stack when I come home over break. The rest of the semester is all focused on figure drawing, so there will be lots more. This one was just the first. It’s my most recent drawing for that class.”

Harry turns back to look at the drawing again. She’s fascinated by it. 

“She’s really beauti– the drawing I mean. It’s beautiful. You did such a good job. All the details. She actually looks soft even just on the paper. It’s so good. You’re so good, Louis.”

When Louis doesn’t respond for a few seconds, Harry lifts her eyes from the drawing to search Louis’ face. Her cheeks are flushed a lovely hue of light pink and her hesitant smile has lifted her cheeks as if wanting to show it off.

But Harry can only appreciate it in spurts, because her eyes have trouble deciding where to focus: the pink-dusted skin of Louis’ delicate cheekbones or the lush, cinnamon-colored eyelashes fanned out just above them. 

She’s lingering on those lashes when they suddenly lift and Harry’s faced with a set of shining – luminous, really – pools of blue. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188921436@N04/50008982423/in/album-72157714725655777/)

_Speaking of beautiful._

“Thank you, Harry.”

She sounds uncomfortable (she always is with compliments), but also grateful. Relieved even, maybe. 

Harry smiles, unable to look away from her, even back to the drawing she’d been studying moments before. 

“Thank _you_ for showing me.” And Harry means it. Not just about the drawings, either.

Louis nods, holding their eye contact with an intensity that almost makes Harry want to look away. But she can’t seem to. 

Her throat is suddenly dry and she swallows stiffly before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to wet it. If she hadn’t been so focused on Louis’ eyes, and from so few inches away, she might have missed them flicking down to her lips just as she smoothed them together to spread the moisture evenly around.

Without meaning to, Harry’s eyes copy Louis’ and she glances down at her defined pink lips, catching them just as they part slightly and suck in a soft, quick breath.

A door slams across the hall making them both flinch and Louis steps back with a slight hitch, leaving Harry to recover from both the loud noise and the moment that preceded it. 

_Shit._

“Assholes,” Louis mutters. “I swear those guys have no idea you can even close a door without slamming it.”

Harry tries to come up with something to say, terrified at how uncomfortable silence will be right now. 

After that. 

But she’s got nothing. 

She just wants to get that moment back – the one Louis’ idiot hallmates stole with their slamming door – and she has no idea how to do it. 

“Shit,” Louis says, “it’s gotten so late.”

And Harry’s heart sinks. 

Because Louis’ trying to get her to leave. 

After they were so close. 

She'd read it wrong. She must have misunderstood. Because Louis wouldn’t have brought up the time if she were trying to get that moment back too. She’s trying to get away from it. 

“Should you call Gemma?”

Harry sighs and is about to agree reluctantly when Louis speaks again.

“I doubt she’s home – she and her friends seemed like they were in for a long night – but you should at least leave a message, let her know you’re staying over here.”

Harry’s never felt that firework feeling so far from July.

“I– uh... I–” she sputters, flailing for composure. 

Louis suddenly looks worried, but before she can say anything, Harry manages to pull herself enough together to continue. “Yeah, I should. I should call her. To let her know that I’m staying with you. Staying here.”

The worry drains from Louis’ face and a smile creeps in, hesitant but full of relief. 

“Do you have a sleeping bag or something I could use, though? I feel bad sleeping in your roommate's bed without her knowing.”

“I do, yeah.” Louis pauses for a second before adding, ”Or you could just sleep with me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up so fast she’s amazed they don’t launch off her face.

“Oh,” Louis rushes out, “I mean. You know. I just mean. Not _with me_ with me, just, in my bed, I mean. With me.” 

“Do you think we would even fit?” 

“I think so. My roommate and _her_ boyf–” Louis stalls mid-sentence and freezes. 

Harry’s stomach flutters at the sight of Louis’ eyes widening but she has to put Louis out of her misery. “Ok, yeah. Thanks.” She smiles sweetly at Louis, trying to balance out the apprehension that must be filling her eyes. 

She’s not sure whether the twist in her stomach is more nerves or excitement, but she thinks probably the latter given that she’s never felt in more of a hurry to get into bed.

Harry calls Gemma to let her know where she is and then she and Louis get ready for bed mostly silently, the electricity bouncing between them filling the air more than words could anyway. 

Walking back down the hall to Louis’ room from the bathroom, toothbrushes in hand, a hallmate of Louis’ walks by in the opposite direction. She looks at Harry, then Louis, then back to Harry and shoots her a knowing smirk. Harry feels terribly exposed for a second, but then notices something supportive in the girls’ expression and realizes that exposed feels awfully close to being seen. 

Louis fishes an extra tank top and flannel pajama pants out of a drawer for Harry and they change, Harry’s skin prickling with goosebumps even with their backs to each other. 

Bedtime rituals finally done, Louis and Harry stand next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, staring silently at Louis’ bed. Neither makes a move to get in first. 

After listening intently for several seconds, straining to hear whether Louis is breathing as heavily as Harry fears she is, she can’t take the screaming silence anymore. 

“So, which side is yours?”

They both burst into giggles at the absurdity of these narrow dorm beds having sides. 

“I’ll take the wall,” Louis offers, climbing in. She arranges herself carefully on her left side, her back toward the wall, inching toward it until she can’t possibly back up any farther, leaving more than half of the impossibly slim mattress open for Harry. 

She looks up at Harry with an inviting expression and Harry has never exercised such will power. Instead of leaping onto the mattress, she somehow climbs slowly in. She settles on her back for a moment before turning her head to offer a smile and a soft “goodnight” to Louis before rolling to her side, facing the room. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis whispers in response, and Harry swears her breath reaches her neck. “I’m...I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” Harry answers, unable to keep her smile from coloring the sound of her voice. She can’t be certain, but she thinks she can hear Louis’ lips form a smile behind her.

They lie together in the dark, inches apart, for what feels to Harry like somewhere between 20 seconds and eight years before she feels herself start to drift off, her back and shoulder muscles finally relaxing as she does. 

Maybe it’s the haze of sleep finally setting in, or a combination of the darkness and her nerves playing tricks, but she swears she senses movement behind her. It’s barely anything, but she’s pretty sure it’s in her direction. 

Her eyes – which she’d been forcing closed to try to coax the rest of her to relax and maybe even sleep – fly open, darting back and forth in the dark, frantically searching for any information. A fuzzy light from outside permeates the too-thin curtain, helping her eyes adjust as she desperately wills the goosebumps prickling her arms to actually _do something useful_ like send her brain a message about whether Louis _actually has_ moved closer. And if they could find out whether it was intentional, that would be great too. 

Finding them to be no help after all, Harry is left to just make a decision blindly. 

_Fuck it._

Harry makes what she hopes is a convincingly half-asleep sounding noise – a small exhale with a hint of a murmur – as she adjusts herself slightly, trying her best to decrease the space between her and Louis without being too obvious. 

Almost immediately, she feels the warmth of Louis’ body as she – _oh my god oh my GODDD_ – closes the space between them completely, her upper body now flush with Harry’s. 

Harry presses back into her gently. Not because there's space left to fill – Louis took care of that. Just to signal she’s here with her. That this is ok. That she wants this too. 

Louis responds with a soft, slow exhale, warm against Harry’s neck, and she reaches her right arm around Harry. Her hand rests carefully on the bed next to Harry’s chest, and Harry is certain even from those few inches away that Louis’s hand can feel her heart rate quicken. 

She moves her own right arm to rest on top of Louis’ before taking a traitorously shaky breath to give her the courage to intertwine their fingers. When Louis doesn’t immediately shriek and pull her hand back, Harry’s bravery is bolstered further, and she pulls their joined arms closer to her, nestling their entangled fingers in her chest.

She's rewarded with Louis’ face nuzzling slightly into her neck and her heart rate begins to slow back down as they both drift off to sleep, their breaths gradually deepening as their chests rise and fall in unison.

~~~

Harry is awake, but she keeps her eyes closed. 

She’s only been conscious for a few minutes at most, so every feeling is still hazy, but she’s very confident she’s facing Louis. And they’re close. 

Her eyes still shut, Harry scans her other senses for any sign that they’re still touching somewhere, anywhere. She thinks their socked feet might be overlapping just slightly, but her socks are too thick to know for certain without wiggling her toes, and she’s too afraid to break the moment. 

Just then, a curl falls slowly into her face, gravity testing her resolve. Does she stay perfectly still to preserve the moment but risk being driven nuts by her own hair? Or does she swipe the hair from her face and risk waking Louis?

Just as she’s wondering whether she could exhale a breath strong enough to blow the hair back where it belongs but somehow silent enough not to disturb the girl sleeping four inches away, she feels a strange sensation. 

Louis is tucking Harry’s curl safely back behind her ear when Harry finally manages to get her lids to part. She’s faced with Louis’ bright blue eyes, shiny with the gloss of the day’s first minutes, but present enough that Harry thinks she must have had them open for a while. 

Before Harry can worry about how long Louis had been watching her – whether she could see Harry’s eyebrows furrow as she weighed her hair-in-face options moments before – Louis smiles and Harry’s mind resets.

Louis doesn’t pull her hand back. She just gently strokes the strands of Harry’s hair she’d tucked away. 

Somehow, Harry’s mind stays relatively clear while this happens. 

She just focuses on Louis’ face. On her smile. 

_That smile._

Harry feels her own emerge and is rewarded with Louis’ widening in response. 

She forces her eyes back up to meet Louis’ and Louis returns her stare, somehow managing eye contact that’s both intense and gentle. 

Louis begins twirling pieces of Harry’s hair in her fingers, the light tugging helping to keep Harry grounded. Keeping her from falling into the wells of Louis’ eyes. 

Harry’s heart starts to thump and she inhales a deep breath. 

As she exhales, her eyes break from Louis’ for a split second and dart a few inches down, catching Louis’ tongue as it peeks out to lick her lips. Harry somehow forces her eyes back up to Louis’, but can’t help herself from almost immediately shifting them back to Louis’ lips. She allows herself a second longer this time to more fully appreciate the slight sheen left behind by Louis’ tongue. 

Harry’s mind starts to reel and her heart races as she tries to take in what’s inches away from her. Eyes still glued to Louis’ lips, she notices the second they start to move closer to her – maybe even before they actually do. Maybe she can sense they’re about to. 

But now they are. Definitely. Inching toward her own. Harry only has time to suck in half a breath in anticipation as her eyes fly back up to meet Louis’ just as their lips do. 

Harry’s eyes flutter shut as she melts into the kiss with a soft hum, her eyebrows shooting up before immediately and much more slowly falling back into their resting position. 

It’s a cautious kiss, not quite tentative, but not quite sure. Soft and searching and caring.

A perfect first kiss. 

And it’s followed immediately by a second. And a third. Then too many to count. Though they stay slow enough that Harry could count them if she wanted. If she weren’t too busy trying to memorize every aspect, every sensation bombarding her all once. 

Louis kisses her gently, but not without intention. She cups Harry’s neck with her hand as her thumb gently strokes her cheek bone. Warmth fills Harry’s cheeks and she’s somehow able to differentiate it from the warmth of Louis’ lips capturing her own over and over. 

She parts her lips just enough to allow Louis to interlock them with hers slightly and briefly before returning to savor a few more full, flush pecks. 

Louis pulls her face back a few inches, leaving her hand where it is, her thumb continuing to lightly brush the skin between Harry’s ear and her cheek. Her lips curl into a slight smile as she exhales contentedly through her nose. 

Harry’s cheeks perk up, drawing her dimple out slowly before a huge smile takes over her face. “Hi,” she exhales. 

“Morning,” Louis replies, her smile broadening to match Harry's. 

Harry stares at her a moment before asking, “You knew what you were doing when you offered to share your bed with me last night, didn’t you?” 

“I don’t know that I’d say that,” Louis responds. “I knew what I was _hoping._ " Her eyes crinkle as her smile gives way to a wisp of a laugh, slightly embarrassed. 

“Me too,” Harry tells her.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, still unbearably soft and somehow still unsure.

“Yes,” Harry assures her. “From the second Gemma asked me to come this weekend, I’ve been hoping I would see you. I wanted so much to see you. I’ve wanted...so much.”

Louis’ eyes widen just enough for Harry to notice. Just enough to encourage her to keep going.

“I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. And I don’t think I would have had the nerve to even if I had. But I missed you so much. I’ve _been_ missing you. And I just wanted to see you again. I’m so glad you came to the show last night. Thank you for coming to find me.”

“Thank you for hoping I would.”

Harry leans in to close the space between them and places a soft kiss on Louis’ lips, then another on her cheek, and one more right on the crinkles by Louis’ eye. She pulls back and places her hand on Louis’ hip, squeezing it lightly before starting to softly brush figure eights with her fingertips. 

She looks at Louis, staring into her beautiful, _beautiful_ blue eyes and willing herself to convey the warmth and contentment and ease she’s feeling. 

Louis’ soft sigh and steady smile suggest she might be succeeding. 

“So then. What should we do _today?_ ” Harry asks. 

“Um, I have a study group in a few hours, actually,” Louis pouts.

“Skip it,” Harry suggests, arching her left eyebrow. 

“You deserve a day off.” 


	4. Winter (Epilogue)

_“In the spring and summer I watched my plants flower, but it was, perhaps, in winter that I loved them best, when their skeletons were exposed. Then I felt they had more to say to me, were not simply dressing themselves for the crowds. Stripped of their leaves, their identities showed forth stark, essential.”_

_― Pamela Erens_

***

It’s really not fair that roller skating ability doesn’t translate _at all_ to ice skating. 

“Oof,” Harry mutters as Louis pulls her back up for what’s probably the third time but feels to her butt like the fiftieth. 

How is it even legal to call them both skating when one is on _blades?_

“You ok?” Louis asks, wincing in apology. “That one sounded hard.”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Harry replies, half-pouting. “But tell me again why we have to do this on two single blades instead of something reasonable like eight wheels?”

“Because,” Louis replies with no sympathy whatsoever, “I need to be better than you at _some_ kind of skating.” 

Harry huffs, playing up her exasperation in the hopes it might get her a firmer hand grip or even a tighter hold around her waist for the next few turns around the rink. 

The truth is she does love doing things Louis is good at. It’s really cute how much Louis lights up when she shares something she loves and is good at – when she’s the one excelling, guiding Harry along.

It’s also a total turn on. 

Still, Harry can’t help but be a little annoyed (at her own clumsiness, really, but seems only fair to share the blame with Louis) that somehow she isn’t any better at ice skating than she was when they first came to this rink together a year ago. 

That day, exactly a year ago today, she thought she could blame her poor skating performance (and the bruises that followed) on nerves. Nerves that had built up over the two months since she’d spent the night in Louis’ dorm, over phone calls and letters that had started out just friendly, like nothing had happened between them, like they were both scared the other might wish nothing had happened. Nerves that had fed off the frustration and disappointment (but also relief) of the G-rated nature of those calls and letters, and the confusion of Harry’s simultaneous eagerness and hesitance to elevate them to PG. 

Nerves that had been electrified by one particular phone call just three weeks before when Louis had finally caved and told Harry she’d been thinking about their sleepover basically every minute of every day since it happened. When Harry had admitted immediately and without a hint of coolness that she could barely fall asleep most nights because she kept trying to feel the way she had when their lips were pressed together and Louis’ hand was in her hair. 

Nerves that hadn’t stopped buzzing since they’d both agreed right then during that call that they needed to do it all again as soon as possible, even though they had no idea what it would mean or what other people would think and that it was all a little terrifying. Because it wasn't as terrifying as the thought of never doing it again. 

And the first night Louis was back home for winter break they had pushed right through their nerves and fears and fallen into an hours-long session of fumbling but so _so_ satisfying making out in Harry’s room (Gemma had insisted her mom take her out Christmas shopping that night).

It’d had an entirely different feel from the morning of their first (and second and third) kiss. The kisses that first night of winter break last year had been at times slow and deliberate, but mostly frenetic and sloppy in the way that pent up intertwined lust- and longing-fueled makeouts often are.

Harry had still been buzzing with it when they’d gone ice skating the next day. It had been Louis’ idea – her version of their roller skating afternoon from the summer before. But unlike that, Louis had insisted, it was a date. Couple skating on the ice that day had been intentional, not merely a way to stay on the rink or an excuse to hold hands. It had been a statement of intent to each other. 

And that declaration, along with every other public display of affection – no kissing, but more little touches and squeezes and smirks than she could count – had recharged Harry’s nerves back to their highest possible frequency. 

So of course she’d fallen a million times. 

But between those falls, amidst the giddy, breathless conversations and flush-cheeked smiles, Harry and Louis had decided they definitely wanted to do this. They wanted to be together even though it might be complicated and scary and even hard. They had to try. 

So, today, they’re celebrating a year of trying. Commemorating the day they decided to be brave together. Remembering how uncertain, but still sure, they had been that day, and reveling in how not an ounce of that uncertainty remains. 

Because over the past year, trying to be together had turned into fully being together. 

The second semester of Harry’s senior year of high school and Louis’ freshman year of college had been rough. After a month of being able to see each other essentially as often as they wanted over winter break – being able to kiss almost as much as they wanted, play with each others’ hair as often as they felt like, stare feverishly or gaze sweetly or implore cautiously into each other eyes as often as they needed – they suddenly had to adjust. For the first time since deciding to be together, they had to navigate it while being physically apart. They'd talked on the phone often that semester – conversations filled with equal parts joking and lamenting – and written each other letters filled with the mundane details of their lives as well as grand proclamations of their adoration and desire.

Harry'd visited on weekends when she could, and those weekends had been whirlwinds of joy and lightness and intensity. Louis’ close friends knew they were a couple, and that had made those weekends liberating (Niall knew and was endlessly patient with Harry’s gushing and bawling both, and Harry swore sometimes that Gemma not only knew but loved it, but most people in Harry’s life had no idea back then). Those snippets of time that spring semester when they actually got to share space were wonderful. But they were never enough. 

And then they’d had the summer. 

Beautiful, warm, free summer.

And it had been just as sweet as the summer before, but amplified and intensified. 

They’d been inseparable, spending every possible moment together. And spending every possible one of those moments pressed so tightly to each other or entangled so completely in each other that at times it was hard to breathe. 

But Harry hadn’t needed breath as much as she’d needed Louis’ skin against hers, Louis’ lips on hers, Louis’ eyes and fingers and tongue running over every part of Harry they could reach. 

Those summer months, they’d learned about their own bodies as they explored each other’s, kissing and touching and cuddling. 

They’d learned about each other and themselves as they opened up about their worries and hopes and fears, whispering and talking and sharing at all hours. 

And laughing, too. Always laughing. 

That summer had made them certain. 

Certain that it wasn’t just curiosity. That they weren’t wondering or experimenting. They weren’t just testing out a feeling. 

Their feelings for each other were true and solid and deep, and layered over a physical attraction that was very real and anything but fleeting.

This was real, what they had. 

And they knew they were young. So young. 

But it felt like it might be forever. 

That fall, with Harry starting at Northwestern, they’d had to separate again. But only a little. And not in the same way as when Harry had still been back home. With both of them in college, and less than 15 miles apart, they’d taken full advantage of their flexible schedules and Louis’ new apartment. 

And they’d gone on dates. Lots of dates. Dates they cherished because they still felt new, even after so many months together, and because they made them feel more like a couple than any time hidden away inside, despite how very coupley their inside activities were and how shy – how careful– they still always were about PDA. Those dates in Evanston and Chicago over the past few months had been invigorating, just the sheer act of venturing out together and being seen (even if the public didn’t know what they were seeing, exactly). 

But ice skating here today, on the rink where they first decided they wanted to be a couple, feels safe. 

Even outside, surrounded by people. Even though they keep holding hands and jabbing each other’s sides playfully and teasing and laughing in a way that feels to them is obvious, they know it’s not. It’s just what people do at places like this. Even girls who are friends and nothing else. They get bundled up and hold hands to keep each other steady on their skates. And no one thinks a thing about it. 

Just like at the roller skating rink a year and a half before. Just like on this very ice skating rink last December. No one notices these two particular girls skating side by side. 

No one notices these two young women in love. 

So they just get to be in love, right here out in the open. 

They get the afternoon off from wondering if people noticed that look or that touch or that smile, if anyone’s trying to figure them out.

They just get to be together. 

To just be. 

To enjoy this moment, this day. Their anniversary.

And look forward to another year. 

**Author's Note:**

> _Seasons are there for a reason.  
>  You may not flourish now,  
>  but when it is your season,  
>  your cup will overflow.”  
>  _
> 
> _― Gift Gugu Mona_  
> 
> 
> ***  
> 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it. Kudos and comments are always appreciated if you're so inclined. 
> 
> Tumblr fic post is [here](https://uhoh-but-yeah-alright.tumblr.com/post/621269700959240192) and art post is [here](https://uhoh-but-yeah-alright.tumblr.com/post/621288489023078402). 
> 
> Thank you again to the mods! I can't wait to overwhelm myself with all the other fics from the fest. <3


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